Compatibility
by permiable-cell-walls
Summary: They're not alike in any way, they're completely different people - but how does it all change when the circumstances allow it? They might just realize that they're compatible after all.
1. Headquarters

**Chapter One: Headquarters**

Hermione sat with her thin, long arms folded, her small frame rigidly sitting on the end of Ron's bed, which was really more of two mattresses on top of each other.

"This is _wrong_," she huffed. "A person is disclosing their weaknesses, and you lot are up here eavesdropping on the poor soul. You shouldn't listen in."

"Oh Hermione, would you calm down?" Ron whined.

"Yeah, I can't hear what's going on," said Fred. He and George were lying on the floor, their ears to the ground. Ginny and Ron were bunched up in the corner, and Harry, who had just arrived, was sitting with the door handle pressed into his forehead.

Hermione clenched her jaw in anger. Here they were, on the eve of the greatest war in all of wizard history, and all these people could do was sit there using Fred and George's Extendable Ears to listen to an unknown man asking to take refuge in the Order's new headquarters. It was wrong, and not to mention insensitive. Not like it could possibly be _that_ amusing, anyways.

_Plus, it's very rude to eavesdrop on something so intimate as a plea for help, _Hermione thought, annoyed at her friends' immaturity.

"Come on, Hermione," Ginny said softly. "It's not like we're eavesdropping on _you_."

Hermione turned her back to the lot of them huddled near the crack underneath the door, and looked out the window to take in the new scenery.

After the previous year, the Order thought it wise to move their headquarters to somewhere other than number twelve, Grimmauld Place, seeing as Snape knew where it was and could come attack them there at any moment.

It was a slight surprise, Snape's act of betrayal, but it was not as if everyone really trusted him in the first place. Of course, all of the adults had placed their trust in him with hopes that they were all mature enough to see past Snape's previous mistakes. After Dumbledore's murder, however, every one of them pretended like they suspected Snape's evil all along.

He hadn't been seen since Dumbledore's death, and everyone was absolutely sure that he was working for Voldemort. And, although he was unable to tell anyone where the headquarters were, seeing as he was not the Secret Keeper, there was not much stopping him from coming back there himself.

So it was, after the finish of their school year at Hogwarts, that Hermione, Ginny, and Ron came immediately to the new headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

Hermione's eyes rested on the grim slate-blue sky, which was filled with black clouds that seemed ready to burst. Her eyes traveled down to the scene outside, which was even bleaker. The streets were empty, but not in a peaceful way. The air itself seemed to be thick with tension, and the fear and anxiety of their surroundings could almost be tasted.

They were in a city, but not London. It wasn't anywhere near there, or that was what Hermione deducted from the way passersby appeared to be more rural and worn. The city seemed smaller, but Hermione was not sure because neither she nor the rest of her companions were allowed outside the headquarters under any circumstances.

It was nearing dusk, and Hermione felt her stomach rumble with hunger.

"When are we going to eat?" she said, forgetting her momentary anger.

"Well, that would be as soon as they are finished listening to this bloke, wouldn't it?" said George. "Quite interesting, though. You sure you wouldn't like to have a go?"

Hermione looked at the Extendable Ear that George held out to her. She was extremely bored…

Forgetting her annoyance at the group, Hermione accepted George's offer and settled herself between Ginny and the wall, thankful that she was thin enough to squeeze in without much trouble.

"_I didn't know what else to do."_

"You could have come to us in the first place…" Hermione heard Remus Lupin say, quite harshly.

Silence. Hermione held her breath as almost a whole minute passed without any sound.

"_I should have."_

Through the heavy muffle that the Extendable Ears created, Hermione heard a familiar drawl in the visitor's voice. Her mind raced, but she tried immediately to push the thought away. _No, it can't possibly be…_

"_You're right. But that's in the past. We need to look to the future," Lupin replied, softer this time. "We do realize your danger in this situation, and we are thankful that you would think of us as a safe haven. However, for obvious safety reasons, we will need you to take Veritaserum in order to ensure your… reliability."_

"_I understand," said the anonymous voice. _

Hermione felt a stab of pain for the individual. He seemed so distraught and hopeless, and yet dignified. His words were filled with genuine sorrow, and he seemed to be quite shaken. Empathy poured out of Hermione's heart for the man, and she wondered momentarily how she could feel so bad for someone she had never met. Her thoughts were soon interrupted with the sound of a slight cough, and then Lupin's voice.

"_That should be enough to make even a troll divulge his darkest secrets. So why don't we let the interrogations begin, Draco."_

Hermione pulled the Extendable Ear out of her own ear, and looked around at her friends, who had done the same.

Silence hung in the air for an eternity, until Fred blurted, "Well I don't think any of us expected _that_!"

The conversation had continued afterwards, and they had come to the conclusion that Malfoy must have found a way around the Veritaserum; there was no way that they were going to trust Draco Malfoy, of all people, to be accepted into the Order of the Phoenix.

Hermione's feelings differed from those of her friends, but she was unsure why. She had heard less than they had, but she felt like Malfoy was truly sorry for his actions. Of course, she would not have admitted it for all the gold in Gringott's, so she kept her mouth closed throughout the discussion and let her thoughts consume her.

She snapped out of her trance when she heard Ron's voice bellow, "Hurry, she's coming! If she catches us with these Extendable Ears we'll all be done for!"

Hermione's ears focused on the sound of heavy footsteps moving towards the door of the room that they were in. All of them scrambled off the ground and onto the four beds in the room, one for each of the boys staying there.

They just had time to sit down before Mrs. Weasley came in, and her expression showed that she was perplexed at the awkwardness hanging in the room. She quickly recovered, however, and said softly, "Dinner is ready, everyone…"

There was a slight pause before she continued, "And we have a new member that we'd like you all to meet."

They sat around the table, most everyone eating rabidly and as if they'd never tasted lasagna before. Hermione, however, focused her gaze on the tall, thin figure with silvery blonde hair and a solemn look on his face. He hung his head and his eyes never once ventured from his plate, where he was moving his lasagna around and only taking bites every few minutes.

He seemed to have thinned considerably, but the dark circles that had come to reside around his eyes the previous year were now fading into a pale flesh tone. His icy gray eyes were framed by furrowed brows, indicating that he was thinking deeply. It seemed like he had aged, but not in a worn, unhealthy way. He looked stronger, calmer, and more resolute than Hermione had ever seen him.

_How could he lie? _Hermione let her thoughts wander. _How could he find a way to lie through "enough Veritaserum to make even a troll divulge his darkest secrets?" And even if he had found a way, why would he have such a calm, healthy look on his face if he weren't free of his burdens? Surely, working for the Death Eaters last year had weighed on him heavily. Why would he look so relieved if he were still with them?_

Suddenly, as if he could feel her eyes on him, Malfoy's head shot in Hermione's direction and his eyes linked with hers. Without even blinking, they held the gaze for what seemed like an eternity, and Hermione could swear that she could feel his emotions. His eyes looked deeper than before, and she was interested in learning the whole story of his experiences. She couldn't move her eyes away. She didn't want to, either.

Malfoy sat in silence as he moved his food around on the plate that they gave him. It was cheaply made, he could tell that much. He thought for a second of the fine china that he had always dined on, and almost missed the Malfoy Manor. He shook the thought out of his head and let all of the memories of the past year flood his mind.

August before he returned to Hogwarts. His father sat him down to let him know that he was nearing the age of acceptance into the circle of Death Eaters, and that he would be given a task in order for him to prove himself worthy.

"_What if I fail," he had asked, thinking that he might just do so on purpose. Draco had never wanted to be a Death Eater, and plus, the prospect of being controlled by a snake-man was not all that appealing to him._

"_**You won't,**__" Lucius had replied. "So don't even think that you can fail purposefully and not be punished. The Dark Lord has told me that you will be bound to this task."_

_Lucius paused to see whether Draco understood or not._

"_If you fail at this task, there will no longer be a point to your existence," he continued, "So you will simply…cease to exist."_

_Lucius let out a cruel chuckle, as if he was amused at the idea that his master would kill his only son if he did not prove himself worthy._

"_You're going to let them __**kill me**__?" Draco had inquired angrily. "I'm going to die if I don't succeed at your 'task'?"_

_Lucius said nothing, but glared into Draco's eyes sharply._

"_What is this task, anyway?"_

Draco pulled himself out of his memories, for he felt slightly nauseous at remembering these following events. He was surprised to feel a pair of eyes on him, and he looked up to see who had been staring.

His eyes met with a pair of huge honey colored ones, and he barely noticed that he was looking into the eyes of Hermione Granger. He studied the pupils and irises of her eyes, and then moved to the surrounding area, where he found long, dark lashes dramatically framing the windows into her soul. He felt as if his eyes were locked onto hers, and he couldn't move them away even if he wanted to, which he didn't.

Ron shoved Hermione in the ribs to get her attention.

"Ooof," she cried. "What was that for?"

"Hermione, I said your name three times and you didn't respond at all. What's gotten into you?" said an annoyed Ron.

"Sorry… um, what did you want anyways?"

Ron looked sheepish and Hermione supposed that he realized how much of an ogre he was being. He softened his voice considerably before he replied, "We were just going to go upstairs and um…" he glanced at Malfoy, who was openly listening to what he was saying. "Play some card games or something. Just wondering if you were going to join us."

Hermione also looked at Malfoy, but tore her eyes away and looked at Ron as she muttered. "Sure, yeah, I'll come… just, uh, let me finish my food." She glanced down at her plate and was thankful that it still had food on it, for she hadn't looked down in a while and it would be unfortunate if her excuse proved invalid.

"Yeah, okay," Ron mumbled as he walked away.

Hermione looked up awkwardly, as she and Malfoy were the only two left at the table and she was trying not to seem as anxious as she felt. Her gaze swept over the plain ceiling and moved to the boring light fixture, which was comprised of a light bulb and a chain dangling from it. Down to the walls covered in pasty-blue paper, and lower to the wooden floor, which was easily the only nice part of the room.

She looked at the table in front of her and realized that Malfoy had moved a seat closer to her, and she felt her chest tighten.

"Malfoy," she said curtly with a nod of her head.

"Mud – uhm, Granger," he almost insulted, but saved quickly. He would have to be nicer to the people who were saving him. Plus, what did he care if she were a muggle-born? The only reason he cared in the past was because his father did, and Malfoy was far beyond the point where he cared about that anymore. The only thing important was getting away from the Death Eaters, and then surviving the war.

They looked at each other in awkward silence before Hermione managed to say, "Well, I… I'm going to go join the… the card game… Do you want to come?" She beat herself over the head mentally for that last part. She had no idea where that came from.

"Are you kidding?" Malfoy asked, but Hermione hardly heard him because she was so fixed on the smirk that just appeared on his face. She had seen that smirk before, but never had she found it so intriguing… almost appealing… _What is going on? _she thought. _Malfoy? Appealing? No._ She tried to convince herself.

"You all hate me, so don't try to pretend we're friends now," Malfoy continued.

"I don't…" Hermione started, but decided against it. She had, in fact, come closer to hating Malfoy than she had with anyone else that she knew.

"I…sorry," she mumbled, and got up from her seat. She pulled her t-shirt down over her jeans, covering up a creamy patch of stomach that Malfoy only saw for half a second.

He watched her slender form as she walked gracefully to the edge of the room and through the doorway, and he wondered why he was ever so mean to her in the first place.

_Author's note: I apologize for the lack of scene changes, and also in other chapters. I hadn't realized that the files weren't uploading with the line breaks. I am trying to find a way to make line breaks, but every time I save the file, it deletes the one's I've just made. I am still trying, but nothing seems to be working, even little symbols like asterisks. Again, I apologize!  
Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoy the story! _


	2. Letters

**Chapter Two: Letters**

Hermione sat at the table the next morning and poured over the events of the night before. Her thoughts were focused not the card-playing part (which had really consisted of Malfoy-centered gossip and joking schemes to make his life miserable), but the part before, when she and Draco were left at the table together after dinner. The image of his gray eyes echoed in her mind, and she had to repress thoughts and analysis of the short conversation they had.

Her memory retreated to the sight of his sarcastic smirk, and she couldn't help but smile inwardly. "_What is it about that smirk?"_ she kept asking herself.

She looked up from her plate of scrambled eggs and French toast and her eyes locked on the subject of her ponderings. Draco looked a little more comfortable at the table this morning than he had the previous night, and Hermione watched as he moved his fork from his plate to his mouth, and back again. She struggled to keep from staring at him, and her mind wandered as she focused back on her plate of food.

"Hermione, are you okay? You seem rather quiet," asked a concerned Ron.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I'm fi-," Hermione started, but was interrupted when the window was opened by Mrs. Weasley to allow five post owls to swoop inside with their letters.

"Look, owls!" she announced cheerfully. "I'll bet they're from Dumble – from the school," she considered, her last few words pushed out with a bitter look on her face. It was exceptionally difficult for everyone to accept that he wouldn't be there as they all returned to Hogwarts that year. If they returned to Hogwarts that year, that was.

Each owl went to a different student, and soon Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco were opening their own separate letters. Hermione looked down at her own, and recognized Professor McGonagall's handwriting:

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_As the new Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I am pleased to inform you that the school will resume as usual this fall on September first. _

_With regards to the unfortunate events of our previous year, I am sure that you are aware of the dangerous situation that we – at Hogwarts and throughout the whole wizard community – are facing, but rest assured that the staff here at Hogwarts has more than tripled the security measures. I am confident that we will be able ensure your safety, and I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you return to Hogwarts on September first._

_Yours sincerely, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

Hermione looked around and deducted that each of them had received identical letters.

"What'd you think she meant, 'more than tripled security measures'?" Ron imitated Professor McGonagall's voice.

"Yeah, I dunno which spells they could add to Hogwarts' security," Harry said, rubbing his eyes groggily.

The whole table was surprised to hear Tonks speak next. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you all," she mumbled, and then raised her voice to announce, "Minerva has asked me to come to work as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And I can vouch for her when she says that the security measures are more than tripled. Actually, she's instituted measures much like our own here in the Order. Every one of the staff has been interviewed with Veritaserum and a sort of Muggle contraption called a Polygraph Test. Interrogations, questions, pledges of innocent and legal business and lifestyles… Everyone who has been reaccepted is completely free of Dark Mark tattoos and Death Eater tendencies."

Her last statement was greeted by a few chuckles around the table. Everyone seemed in an altogether pleasantly chatty mood, until Mr. Weasley pointed out, "Hermione, you seem to have another letter in your envelope."

Everyone around the table looked at her in curiosity, but the focus changed when Draco Malfoy spoke for the first time that morning.

"I have one, too," he said, and Hermione noted his pale face turning a slight pink color.

"What does it say, Hermione?" Harry asked as he leaned over to look at her second letter.

Hermione froze in shock of what she read. _Of course, I have always wanted…maybe even suspected…wow…_

"I'm going to be the Head Girl!" she squealed with excitement.

"Congratulations!"

"Wow, Hermione!"

"That's terrific!"

The table erupted with happy praises, and Hermione smiled joyfully at the news. Slowly, however, the thought dawned on her that Malfoy had received a second letter, also. She looked in his direction and everyone else did the same. The loud remarks faded into a ringing silence as the group waited for a response.

Draco was reading and re-reading his letter. _This has to be a joke, _he thought, _why would they pick __**me**__ as Head Boy? I almost __**killed**__ the Headmaster last term…what sort of prank is this?_ Memories of his illegal and terrible actions plagued him for a few brief moments until he forced himself to come off it. He didn't like reliving the past year.

He realized suddenly that all of the eyes in the room were on him, and most of the faces looked stiff with suspense.

Draco nodded his head slowly and said quietly, "I'm Head Boy."

Gasps were heard all around the table, and after a few seconds, Molly shouted, "Well that's great, Draco!"

"Yeah, congrats," Tonks praised, trying to sound as excited as she had with Hermione's news.

A few of the adults made polite remarks like Tonks', but the voices were silenced after a few minutes and everyone seemed to be suffocating in the awkwardness of the situation. Conversation resumed after a short while, but everyone seemed to be whispering, and only to the person next to them.

Draco looked across the table where his eyes met a mass of bushy brown hair and a soft countenance. Shining brown eyes surveyed the food on the plate in front of her, and soft, feminine lips opened and closed as she accepted food into her mouth. _So this is my dorm mate, _Draco mused, _maybe it won't be all that bad…I hope, anyways. She probably hates me a great deal for being such an ass the past few years, though. _He made a mental note to be friendlier to her, and everyone else he was staying with, for that matter. _At least I'm not sharing a dorm with Weasley and Potter. _

One by one, people in the group started to get up, and soon it was only Malfoy at the table by himself. He read the note again in disbelief, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find any suggestion that this was not a real letter from Professor McGonagall. Draco had always wanted to be Head Boy, but he never imagined it happening like this.

_Or feeling this bad about it,_ he thought.

He got up from the table slowly and stretched his limbs. Gathering up his letters, he walked silently out of the room.

That night, in hours that surely no human being should be awake, Hermione sat in her bed, unable to sleep. She couldn't find a reason, but she felt a looming presence of apprehension.

_It's just everything going on lately,_ she told herself, _it's not like the past few months have been a breeze. What with all of the worry last term, Dumbledore's – _the word hung in her brain – _death, me becoming Head Girl…__**Malfoy**__…_

_Why do I keep thinking about him? He's not any different. He's still that white ferret. The mean boy who made fun of all of us the past six years, _she scolded herself, _so just __**stop thinking about him**__._

Hermione looked around the room. She had to strain her eyes to make out the figure of Ginny sleeping in her bed, but there was a glow around the window that told her the sun was going to rise soon.

_I guess I'll go shower, it's not like I'm going to get any sleep at all tonight._

Trying to be as silent as she could, Hermione raised herself out of bed and stood with her bare feet on the cold hardwood floor. She lit a match and brought it to the candle in a small lantern next to her bed so that she had some light.

Sliding her oversized t-shirt over her head and removing the boxers that she slept in, she wrapped herself in a towel and tiptoed down the hall.

On her way to the bathroom, she looked at the walls and their old-looking wallpaper. It was a hideous color blue, the same color in every room of the house, and there were a few places that were less faded where Hermione suspected photographs once hung. While walking down the hallway, she noticed light coming from underneath the door to the room that Malfoy was staying in.

After closing the door behind her, Hermione turned on the light switch and blew out the lantern. She turned on the water and hung her towel on the hook as she stepped in. The warm water enveloped her and the steam filled the room quickly. She shut her eyes as she let the water cascade down her face, running her hands through her hair to push it back.

She poured some shampoo into her hair and let the scent of honey move into her nostrils. Massaging it into her scalp and hair, she felt like she was washing the stress off of her soul.

She stood in the calming waterfall, savoring the peace and relaxation, and found herself becoming slightly dizzy. Frightened, Hermione's eyes shot open and she felt her head sway backwards and then forwards again. Black crept in from all sides of her vision until she couldn't see anything else, and she felt a very slight _thump_ as her body hit the tiles on the wall and slid down into the bathtub.


	3. Incident

**Chapter Three: Incident**

Draco Malfoy sat in bed, looking around at the room that Molly Weasley brought him to when he first arrived at the headquarters.

"_Now, usually all of the young men have to share a room, but under these circumstances, I think you'll get more sleep in a room by your self," _she hadsaid to him in her usual motherly tone.

_Not much sleeping going on in it, though, _he thought bitterly. He had been awake for hours, ever since he was woken up by a tapping in the ceiling. He tried to go back to sleep at first, but when he couldn't, he turned on the light and searched for the origin of the noise. Looking up to see where the noise was coming from, Draco noticed an intricate design in the Spackle that he hadn't before seen before. His tired eyes followed the bumps and made out a scene with a dog and a rabbit, and something else that looked almost like a centaur.

_What am I doing?_ he asked himself. _I must be going insane. And what is that bloody noise?_

He got up on his bed and reached his long arms up to the ceiling, somehow thinking that if he could touch it, he would be able to find the source of the tapping. Now that he was up there, however, he realized that the noise was closer to _scratching_ than it was tapping.

He lowered his hands and sat back down on his bed.

_Stupid rat, _he cursed. _Can't you just leave me alone and let me sleep?_

After his realization, he pulled the covers over his head and tried to go back to sleep.

"_You're going to let them __**kill me**__?" Draco asked his father angrily. "I'm going to die if I don't succeed at your 'task'?"_

_Lucius said nothing, but glared into Draco's eyes sharply._

"_What is this task, anyway?"_

"_That's more like it," Lucius said a smirk much like Draco's, but more sinister. "I knew you'd come around… with the proper __**push**__."_

_Lucius paused for a chuckle and to cast a spell so that no one would overhear what he was about to say._

"_The Dark Lord has appointed __**you**__ to be the backbone of this great mission. You are, ultimately, going to end the life of that madman headmaster of yours. The plan is complex and brilliant, so brilliant that only the most genius of wizards could some up with it – and you'll see that I've added my own touches here and there," he added with the most Malfoy arrogance anyone could imagine._

"_You will be responsible for fixing a certain cupboard that already resides at Hogwarts. You see, this cupboard is a sort of transporting device, and the match to it belongs to a very close friend of mine…'close' being loosely translated…anyways, Mr. Borgin of Borgin and Burkes should be quite happy to help us out," Lucius paused, stood suddenly from the chair he had been sitting in, and strode with an extremely large gait across the large room. _

_His long pale fingers rested on a thin, 15 inch-long silver gilded box, which he snapped open, his back hiding the insides from his son. Draco was slightly curious at this, for he had never seen the box before and was unsure of where it had come from. Pondering the box's contents, Draco did not notice when his father spun silently on his heel and appeared to Draco holding a wand made of very light wood that looked practically unused._

"_This wand," Lucius reveled as he breathed in sharply and exhaled slowly, as if he was savoring the thought, "will be used to implant the Dark Mark on your forearm."_

_Draco tried not to appear as frightened – no, terrified – as he felt. He did not want to complete this task, and less did he want to receive the Dark Mark. But still, he willed to live more than he would have liked to at the moment._

_Seeing Draco's explicit expression of anxiety, Lucius hushed his voice in an attempt to be calming._

"_Now, boy, don't you get your stomach in a knot. The Mark will be temporary…provisional, if you may."_

_Lucius, as he often did, paused to take in the confused look that his son's face had procured, relishing the feeling of superiority as if it were his mistress – his third mistress, anyway. When Draco made no attempt to ask for clarification, Lucius went on._

"_The Mark will, just as a normal one, appear on your left forearm. It will not, however, fill you with the ultimate feeling of servitude and devotion to our Dark Lord, nor will it allow you to become an associate of our inner circle. This Mark will be, ultimately, for show. You will __**love**__ the feeling of control it gives to know that, at first glance of your new tattoo, even the most powerful of __**honorable**__ wizards will bow to your command…"_

_He spoke on about the greatness of this mark, but Draco drowned this out. He didn't want to have a Dark Mark, not even a provisional one, but he did like the fact that he wasn't going to be forced into receiving the __**real**__ mark. Not yet, anyways…_

"_Do you know what 'provisional' means, Draco?" Lucius said in a harsh tone, which cued the young Malfoy in to the fact that the rant was over. Not waiting for a reply, Lucius went on, "It means that it can be taken away. It means that, on the slightest mistake, you will be stripped of the Mark and will not be able to regain it."_

_Draco reeled from this comment. If he didn't have the mark, maybe that meant he could get out of performing this task…_

_As if Lucius read Draco's mind, he commented, "And no, Draco, that does not mean that I will remove you from your task. It just means that you will have to carry it out without the help of this friendly stain."_

"_Now, are you ready for the spell?"_

_Draco looked up, surprised, to see his fathers ice-colored eyes glaring down at his. He didn't answer, trying to think of a way to postpone his father._

_His thinking was too slow when Lucius grabbed Draco's left hand, which caused a cold chill to course through his body. Lucius' white wand touched the skin of Draco's forearm and a silent incantation caused a burning sensation to envelop him. Searing through his mind, a red-hot spell made Draco wish he'd never been born._

Cold – freezing – sweat fell in a trickle from his forehead to his pillow, and Draco gasped a breath of the warm summer air that filled the room.

He felt… foggy.

His eyes slowly opened and scanned the room. Suddenly, he jumped from the bed as the sheets fell to the floor.

The room didn't just _feel_ foggy – it _was_ foggy.

Draco detected a faint smell of honey, and realized that someone must be showering down the hall.

_Merlin, how did it get so steamed up in a room two doors down?_

Draco stepped lightly with his bare feet. Turning the door handle as quietly as possible, he moved silently down the hall.

He stopped in front of the door to the bathroom, and wondered momentarily if he should do anything.

He knocked lightly on the door twice.

His ear pressed against the wood, which was warm and damp from the steam. He heard nothing but the rush of water.

He knocked four times in a row, harder this time.

When he still heard nothing, he called out, "Hello, anyone in there?"

No reply came, and Draco's chest tightened with fear and anxiety. He turned the door handle, surprised that it wasn't locked, and pushed it open lightly, peering in through a small crack.

When Draco saw that the room was filled with even more fog than the rest of the house and that the shower curtains were pulled shut, he once again tried to get the bather's attention.

"Hello?? Anyone in here?"

His steps were rather heavier now as he strode toward the running shower and pulled open the curtain.

Draco's eyes took in the scene of the small, lifeless form sprawled on the floor of the shower.

"Granger?" he whispered in shock.

Draco's tall frame swooped down to shut off the faucet, and, crouching on is knees, he tried to revive the fainted girl. His eyes traveled briefly over her body. She had thin legs and a flat torso that made it's way up into a chest that, until now, Draco had thought not to exist. He let his eyes rest on her for a moment but with much convincing, he forced himself to look only at her eyes, which were rolling in the back of her head.

Quite frightened, Draco's mind raced as he decided what to do.

He slid one of his hands behind her bare back, and the other he placed under her knees. Her light frame made it easy for him to lift her, and in a quick moment's time, he was striding down the hall as her wet hair soaked into his clothes and caused droplets to drip down his arm.

Draco went to the room that he was almost positive was Hermione's, and was not surprised to see a dark space with two beds in it, one of them empty.

As carefully as he could, he laid her into the empty bed and pulled a sheet over her naked form.

To the right was a bed in which a chest rose and fell, and in the dark Draco could just make out a head of long, red hair.

"_Weasley! Uhm… Ginny!_" he whispered a he shook her arm. When no response came, he spoke louder.

"Ginny! Wake up! Hermione is… I think she's fainted or something…"

"GINNY. WAKE UP N-"

She shot out of bed and cupped her hand over his mouth.

"Good God Malfoy! What are you-"

She could see the fog in the room now, and could tell that Malfoy was dripping wet.

"It's Hermione," Draco said urgently, "There's something wrong."

Just as the words were out of his mouth, a figure switched on the light and appeared to Draco and Ginny as Mrs. Weasley.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" she demanded, misjudging the situation and assuming that Draco was just visiting Ginny in the middle of the night. Molly soon realized that something was wrong, however, seeing the worried looks on the faces of the young people before her.

"It's Hermione," Draco repeated, "I think she's fainted."

Mrs. Weasley's response was frightening at best. She gasped loudly and located the bed with Hermione in it before she hobbled quickly over to the helpless girl.

Draco explained thoroughly how he came to find her in her situation as Molly, Tonks, Arthur and Remus bustled about.

They were floo-ing to St. Mungo's Hospital in a matter of minutes, and within a half hour, the whole household sat around a hospital bed with a groggy – but thankfully awake – Hermione.

Everyone had explained to Hermione the events that had passed. They told her about the fainting, the fog, and about the fact that Draco Malfoy had found her in the shower unconscious. The fact that he, Draco Malfoy, had come in on her in the shower and seen her naked body. The fact that he had carried that naked body in his own arms to her room.

She looked over at Draco, who was sitting in the corner staring at his hands. He looked embarrassed. But not as embarrassed as she felt. And not nearly as confused.

_What in the world caused this to happen? _she asked herself._ I have never fainted before. Why did I now?_

Hermione realized suddenly that she was staring at Draco, and that he had looked up at her also. She had no idea how long they'd been making eye contact and she felt warmth rise into her cheeks as she turned her head away.

_He saw me naked. __**Draco Malfoy**__ saw __**me**__, naked._

Hermione's mortified thoughts broke off when a small female healer with short, black hair walked in the room.

"Hermione Granger, correct? I'm Healer McClellan," she offered her hand, and Hermione took it. "Good news. It looks like this accident has made no damage, and you should be able to return home in the next few hours. There is, however, a bad side. Your fainting was most likely caused by stress, so I have to urge you to take measures to relax yourself, or else this is bound to reoccur."

Hermione shook her head in understanding, trying to come up with a reason for the stress.

_Well, a boy has just seen me naked…_

True to her word, Healer McClellan had them leaving the hospital by floo less than an hour and a half later. Molly was the first to go, and after that Hermione, then Arthur then Remus then Tonks, followed by the others.

As soon as Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, she sensed something wrong. The whole living room, usually mildly hideous, was even more a mess. Everything was strewn about, and it looked as if there had been a break-in.

"What the bloody hell?" she heard Malfoy curse. "What happened here?"


	4. Double

**Chapter Four: Double**

Draco Malfoy trudged through the living room and into the kitchen, objects cracking under his feet. He could feel the Death Eaters in the air; he smelled their ashen scent. _They've been here, _he told himself, surprisingly calm. _They've come… for me._

A crunching noise behind him made him turn around. Harry and Ron had stepped through the swinging doors, and were talking amongst themselves. They didn't acknowledge Malfoy's presence.

"What'd you think happened?" an incredulous Ron whispered under his breath.

"Voldemort, of course," Harry remarked matter-of-factly as Ron winced at the name. "Did you think we'd be safe here forever?"

"Hell, I expected more than a month."

Hermione walked through the doorway then. She was still looking rather pale, and her hair was especially disheveled.

" 'Stay relaxed'," she mused. "Well that doesn't look like much of a possibility, now does it?"

No one replied, not sure if she was talking to them, or herself.

"What about _you_," Ron finally turned and looked at Malfoy. "Did _you_ have anything to do with this?"

Malfoy stared at Ron for a second, trying to suppress his anger.

"I'll take that as a yes," spat Ron.

"FUCK YOU WEASLEY!" Malfoy cursed. "YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING."

_If only. But he couldn't let go of his anger like that. _

"No Ron," Malfoy tried to stay as calm as he could and not lash out. "I didn't."

"You don't sound so sure," Ron jeered. He seemed to feel that he had the upper hand now, since he was making fun of Draco Malfoy for once in his life.

They were silent for a second, no one making eye contact. Harry finally spoke up.

"Did either of you hear anything last night?"

Malfoy was going to say he had, but Ron said so first.

"Yeah, I did 'matter-of-fact," he said with his brows furrowed. "It was a sort of… of… _tapping_."

"It was scratching," Malfoy interjected. "A rat, scratching."

"What do you know, Malfoy? It was tapping, I heard it," the red head flared.

"Wait Ron," Harry reasoned. "I heard it too. And I think Malfoy's right." Ron stared incredulously at his friend's apparent betrayal, and Harry continued. "Who do we know that can be quite the rat sometimes?"

Ron kept staring, his brows furrowed again.

"IT'S WORMTAIL!" Hermione screeched from somewhere outside the room.

All three of the boys ran into the living room and followed the flow of people rushing up the stairs. They entered the long blank hallway and saw a disturbing scene at the end: Hermione, face whiter than ever, standing over an unconscious Peter Pettigrew. His fat frame was sprawled out awkwardly on the floor face down, his greasy mostly-bald head shining in the hallway light, making it difficult to tell if he was still alive or not. He didn't seem to be moving at all.

"Hermione, get away from there!" Ron yelled from the pit of his stomach. She jumped out of the trance she seemed to have been in, and looked over at Ron. Slowly, she made her way to him and he and Harry held her between them with their arms behind her back.

"What happened?" Mrs. Weasley asked her in a whisper.

"N- Nothing… I just found him here…" Hermione answered.

Draco Malfoy had no idea what came over him, but suddenly he stepped forward and walked the eight or nine feet to Wormtail's body. He bent down on one knee and heaved the extremely ample frame over to reveal a face that would haunt the rest of his life.

Pettigrew's saggy face broke into a sinister smile, dirty teeth bared and eyes flashing evil, as he reached to his pocket for his wand. Malfoy jumped back, his own wand already in hand by the time Pettigrew could raise his own. Lupin was immediately at Malfoy's side, his wand pointed at Pettigrew's chest.

"What are you doing here, _rat_?" he spat with more venom than anyone thought possible.

Sitting upright now, Pettigrew's face grew even more disturbing as he answered, "Serving my Lord, of course." He turned his small eyes on Malfoy and whispered, "I've come for _you_." In an instant, Draco felt his body writhe in pain, and he heard a faint voice saying, "_Crucio_!"

He couldn't open his eyes, but they bulged from his face as if they were going to pop out. He could smell the burning of his insides; he could smell the pain coursing through his whole body. He fell to the ground and felt his limbs flailing, felt his flesh in contact with the floor searing. He tried to allow himself to go somewhere else, somewhere black, but his eyelids seemed to be fighting him by turning bright red on the insides, so all he could he was a consuming fire.

It wasn't long before the pain ebbed, and Malfoy once again opened his eyes. Lupin was standing next to him still, and someone was holding him under the arms.

"Come on, Draco," he heard Mr. Weasley say. "You're going to be okay."

Hermione watched as Arthur dragged him down the hallway and enter the room he was staying in. She was pressed against the wall, holding her wand behind her back. Ron and Harry had left her side and were now standing in the circle that surrounded Peter Pettigrew with their wands pointed at him.

She heard a footstep behind her, and a quiet curse of someone who had obviously not wanted to be heard. Without thinking, she whirled around and shot at the intruder with the first spell that came to mind.

"_Expelliarmus_!" she yelled as his wand dropped to the floor.

"_Incarcerous_!" came a spell from a voice behind her. Ropes appeared and wrapped themselves around the attacker. Hermione breathed only a quick sigh of relief before she realized that there were ten more masked Death Eaters making their way up the stairs, directly at her.

Impedimenta curses were fired, and the enemy slowed, but didn't stop. Expelliarmus spells were used, too, but only half of the intruders lost their wands. They were coming at Hermione, and she could smell the one in the front.

It only took her a few seconds before she came to her senses and fired, "_Stupefy_!" and "_Levicorpus_!" at her nearest advancer. She saw others helping her, but her heart continued to beat just as fast, and her mind continued to race. She kept firing at the advancers, but her dizziness was making it all seem like a dream.

_Hold on Hermione_, she told herself. _Don't faint now._

She pressed on, and in her daze she saw more Death Eaters fall to the ground. It made sense that they were failing, because there were only a dozen of them, and they were coming from the bottom of the staircase, whereas there were about 25 of the Order (more had apparated), and they had the advantage of already being at the top of the stairs.

Aurors disapparated with Death Eaters. _Taking them to the Ministry_, Hermione thought. One by one, the hallway was clearing, and Hermione felt her heart slow down.

She felt everything slow down, in fact. Her head was swaying again, and the only thing she could do was stumble towards the wall to try to steady herself, but she didn't make it there. She crumbled to the ground again, and felt her arm crack as she landed.

Malfoy opened his eyes and saw the bland bedroom he had spent a few of his nights in so far. His mind traced over the recent events, and his head throbbed.

He had never known that he could feel so terrible.

_Good thing that rat proved my innocence,_ he thought, glad for at least one thing in his life presently. _Now they can never accuse me of being allied with the dark forces. _

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Without waiting for a response, the guest opened the door and revealed to Draco the red hair of Ron Weasley.

"Yes, umm… Malfoy," he began, more awkwardly than Draco knew was possible. "We're going to St. Mungo's again…"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and hoped that he wouldn't have to reply. He didn't know if he could use the energy.

"So… well, we're leaving a few of the Aurors here to… you know, watch out and everything," Ron continued. "You don't have to come if you don't… well, but you might use some healing… after…."

"I feel fine," Malfoy interrupted. He didn't want to watch Ron stammer forever.

"Umm, right… well…" he turned to leave.

"No wait," Draco protested. "Why are you going to St. Mungo's? Is someone hurt?"

Ron's face twisted into somewhat of a painful grimace as he told Malfoy about Hermione and her arm. Draco watched the expression with a bit of wonder and… jealousy?

_What would I be jealous of, though?_

After about half a minute of silence, Ron turned to leave and Draco didn't stop him.

One masked wizard retreated from the headquarters, his heart beating, his silver hair laced with sweat.

One hand reached up to the hood of the cloak he wore, and in one swift movement, the young, pale face was revealed:

The young, pale face of Draco Malfoy.

_Thanks so much for those of your who've read all of the chapters so far, I'm really glad to have a few fans._

_**Please review**__, it means a lot to me to know what all of you think!_

3_ permiablecellwalls_


	5. Remember

**Chapter Five: Remember**

_What a God-awful day_, Hermione said to herself as she curled up in her bed for the first time in more than 24 hours.

The healing hadn't taken long with her arm, and although it was a bit stiff still, it was mostly better.

The fact that she'd fainted again, well, hadn't exactly been the most surprising of recent news. Everyone kept saying, "Well, who wouldn't have fainted, after that?"

But to the best of her knowledge, none of the others had.

_So really, then, it's just me,_ she thought bitterly.

She was struggling with the need to solve two mysteries at once: what was happening to her, and how did the Death Eaters get in to the headquarters?

She pondered both, one at a time mostly, but sometimes both simultaneously, until she drifted off to a fitful sleep.

_Malfoy had walked towards Pettigrew with the confidence of an aristocrat. Somehow, there was nothing that could hurt him._

_But there was. _

_As he turned Wormtail over, the man brought out, instead of a wand, a huge kitchen knife. He cut into the gut of the brave Draco, and pulled it out just as quickly. He dug the knife into the youth again, this time in the flawless porcelain skin between his brows._

_Over and over, Pettigrew's slaughter continued, until all Hermione could see was liquid red. _

_A burst of green light illuminated the hallway, and Draco fell down dead at Hermione's feet. She bent down and wept over his body, and a feeling of utter loneliness swept over her._

She could feel wetness on her face, and opened her eyes. Her fingers touched her cheeks tenderly as she smeared the tears, wondering what had just happened.

_It was only because he was the first to be hurt today, _she told herself._ It doesn't mean anything._

It wasn't long before Mrs. Weasley called her down to breakfast, and despite her terrible sleep she did feel better.

Over a meal of sausage and toast, the Order discussed their next actions.

"We need to leave here, isn't that much obvious?" Arthur Weasley stated.

"But, Arthur, where are we to go?" inquired Lupin.

"Yes, Arthur, I do believe he's right," Molly Weasley added.

"It doesn't matter _where_; we've got to get out of here. They know where we are now. We can't risk all of our lives by staying in the same spot," he argued back.

"Yeah, that'd be daft," George cut in.

"But didn't we get' em all?" Ron said in between a bite of his toast.

"Exactly my point, Arthur," Lupin agreed. "We rounded them up, sent them to Azkaban, they're not coming back for us any time soon."

"But Remus," Arthur reasoned. "That wasn't the lot of them. There're more, and you can bet that they all know where we are. Even You-Know-Who could just show up here any moment."

The whole table was silent, save for the chewing noises coming from Ron's end. Hermione looked down at her food for a minute and then looked up to see if anyone else was feeling as uncomfortable as she was.

Immediately, her eyes connected with the pale gray ones that had been laced in red in her nightmare. She blinked, and looked back at her plate.

_Dear Lord, what is this?_

She looked up again. _Just to see if he's staring,_ she told herself.

Draco Malfoy was half-glaring, but not like she'd seen him glare before. He looked more like he was just thinking intently, his face contorting to his thoughts. His head was cocked slightly to the right, and strands of his silver-blonde hair fell across his forehead and into his right eye.

He wasn't looking at her eyes, but he was definitely looking at _her._ She tried to figure out where, but before she could, his expression lightened and he shut his eyes quickly.

_What in Merlin's name was he thinking about?_ She asked herself, slightly angry that she couldn't answer.

"I suppose we'll go to the Burrow for now," Hermione heard Molly Weasley say.

"The Burrow? D'you think that's the safest place, mum?" Fred asked.

"Yeah, it's the first place they'd look, isn't it?" George contributed.

"It'll have to do," Arthur shrugged. "We can't wait until we can find another one of these Muggle places. And we're going to need a lot of time to think how we can better the security of the _next_ headquarters…"

­

His tight chest heaved as he continued to run. Down the street and into the first alleyway he could find, Draco's feet pounded with each footstep.

"Almost captured," he said out loud.

If anyone had been watching, they would have seen the dark silhouette and shining hair disappear into thin air.

He arrived at the Malfoy Manor a second later, queasy with the travel and the run. He crumbled to the ground and laid his head on the silk pouffe next the armchair. His body wretched and writhed, and within five seconds, the eyes of a staid, aristocratic woman opened where his had closed. Narcissa Malfoy opened and shut her eyes and hands, stretched her arms out and stood on her feet.

_I'm in bad shape_, she told herself. _Next time, no running._

A house-elf walked through the enormously tall oak doors, and the slam behind him made an echo through the room's tall ceiling.

"Mistress Malfoy," squeaked the elf, "There is a man to see you. Shall I let him come in?"

"Yes, yes, let him in. But give me a minute to compose myself. Have him meet me in the drawing room."

The elf left quickly and Narcissa stripped off her sweaty clothing and replaced them with shining robes of cream-colored satin. She sent spells at her hair, replacing it in a swirled bun near the top of her head. Her long, alabaster neck she left unadorned, but she did put on two pearl droplet earrings.

She strode down the long, well-lit hallway of marble floors and billowing green drapes and made her way to the drawing room, where waited a very important guest.

Immediately upon entrance into the room, her personality morphed from the slightly haughty demeanor to a more servile one.

"Do forgive me, Sir," she spoke in a whisper to the one seated gloatingly in the plushest seat in the room. "I hadn't expected you here so soon."

"Make no apologies, Narcissa," said the man in a voice that almost implied the opposite. "And please, it's Severus."

"The operation did no go as hoped," she began.

"Yes, I've been informed. The plan was so well thought-out, too, what with Pettigrew infiltrating through the faulty construction and informing us when everyone had gone… It seemed almost flawless, but I guess I underestimated how easily destroyed perfect plans are when put in the hands of complete morons. It's too bad, you know… The Dark Lord will be so displeased that you failed to capture even _one_ of the Order members," Snape said condescendingly. "But at least he does not yet know the truth of –"

"Don't speak his name!" Narcissa interjected. "I can't bear it!"

Her voice just then had bordered on insanity, and they both hear it. The room was silent for a while, each of them seemingly absorbed in thought. Narcissa's face glowered as if she'd tasted something very unpleasing, and Snape looked down his long, hooked nose at the design on the carpet. Finally, he spoke.

"Oh, Narcissa," his voice sounded deceivingly soft. "It must be terrible for you. First Lucius in Azkaban, now your only son has abandoned you – betrayed you – and joined –" quickly the softness turned into mock and ridicule "– the forces of _good_."

She looked down in a defeated way, and he continued.

"Perhaps –" his voice higher now "– you would like to abandon the Dark Lord for all of the pain he seems to have caused you?"

"NO!" she contested. "I am loyal!"

"Good, good. Because I would have called you an utter fool for thinking that the pain you experience was caused by anyone other than the Malfoys, the failures of your husband and the treacherous betrayal of your dear Draco – "

"Snape," Narcissa tried to remain calm. "Please."

"I know not of what you plead," he responded coldly. "I only speak the truth. But now," he stood to leave. "I must go. I don't doubt you have enough Polyjuice to last you?"

"I do," she answered quietly.

"Remember, Narcissa," he called over his shoulder as he was almost out the door. "Remember December 15th."

They had been at the Burrow now for almost three hours, and it was now the morning of July first. The house was full of hustle and bustle, everyone moving their things around, trying to figure out sleeping arrangements.

Mrs. Weasley had strictly forbid Hermione from working at all, and she was forced to sit on a sofa in the living room while the others did the heavy lifting (literally).

Harry came to sit next to her and she felt the warmth from his leg on hers. He leaned over and hugged her from the side affectionately, and she almost wept just then. She didn't know why, but she was having tremendous trouble with all of this.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"Well, I suppose I'm fine, just shook up I guess," she answered, fooling him completely.

"Of course. You know, Ron and I have set up your bed, so you can go take a rest if you'd like. Traveling the Muggle way is tiring."

They had come to the Burrow like Muggles to avoid attention. They wanted absolutely _no one_ to know that they were here. That, in fact, was the precise reason for most of the hustle and bustle. The Weasley parents, along with all of the Aurors they could find, were running around the house putting various protection spells on each room. Hermione had to admit; she was tired. But not physically. She felt like it was all too much to take right now, and she just wanted to have one normal day. For once.

"I've been sleeping so much already. I don't want to sleep through everything."

"I know you have, but it can't be bad, right?"

"Only it is, Harry," she said passionately. "I've been missing out on life for the past week, I just want to be a part of things."

"Hermione, you are part of things," he said softly. "You were fantastic in that hallway, all of your spells, you took out many a Death Eater."

She laughed a little, happy for the relief, and he laughed with her.

_I'm so happy to have Harry as a friend,_ she thought. _What would I do without someone to cheer me up?_

"Hermione, you know we all care about you, right?" Harry was saying.

"What? Oh, umm, of course I know that," she answered, disheveled. "Why do you mention it?"

"I'm just worried for you, that's all," he said, his eyes looking into hers. She could feel his anxiety in that moment. "Just try to be okay, for all of us."

"Thanks Harry," she smiled and hugged him again. "I'll try."

"In the kitchen you two!" called Mrs. Weasley. "There's an announcement to be made!"

Harry and Hermione got up from their seats and hurried curiously into the kitchen, where a few guests and most of the Weasleys were already placed around the large table, including Bill and Charlie. Next to Bill was seated his beautiful, yet annoying, fiancé Fleur Delacour, beaming and clutching his hand enthusiastically. The whole table was whispering to each other, and Mr. Weasley had to speak quite loudly to gain everyone's attention.

"I'm sure you've noticed," he glanced at his older sons and smiled. "That Charlie, Bill, and Fleur have arrived. Bill, Fleur, would you like to - ?"

The young couple stood up and Hermione guessed what was coming next.

"We've set a date!" announced Bill. "And it's… quite a bit sooner than everyone expected." He paused and looked around at everyone, and Hermione, for one single second, was overwhelmingly jealous of Fleur. She wanted someone that excited to marry _her_.

"We are to be married," said Fleur, her pronunciation much better than the last time Hermione had heard her speak. "At 6:00 pm on the evening of July third!"

The table exploded in a burst of conversation, excited and anxious. Ron leaned over to Hermione and Harry to mutter, "Well I suppose Phlegm's really going to be a Weasley" quite disgustedly.

Everyone congratulated the two, and then Mrs. Weasley spent the next eight hours sitting at the kitchen counter with Fleur, discussing decoration plans. The wedding was, of course, going to be at the Burrow, so until afterwards the house would be stuffed with people. There was no escaping the suffocatingly romantic atmosphere.

Malfoy opened his eyes to the dark room, and swayed his body to the side. His bare feet touched the floor silently, and he pulled himself out of bed. He walked out of the room and down the hall to Ginny's bedroom. Still silently, and seemingly guided by some remote force, he walked into her room and knelt beside the bed in which Hermione slumbered.

He allowed his cold, long fingers to stroke her hair, and then his white palm to cup her smooth face. His index finger glided along her jawbone and his icy gray eyes passed over the contours of her countenance. He weaved his fingers through her hair again and brought a bit of it up as he leaned down to take in its fragrance. Honey, delicious honey, everything good in the world. His face moved down further and his lips met her forehead and sent a shutter of delight through his body.

He awoke less than a second later in a cold sweat and with a certain other liquid present in his bed. Disgusted with himself on numerous levels, and more confused than he'd been in months, he quietly whispered, "_Scourgefy_," and all was clean again.

_Merlin, what was that?_ He asked himself angrily. _That was... terrible. Well, kind of. Not so terrible as it was confusing. And she did smell good. She smelled just like when I found her in the shower…Ugh, what am I thinking!? It's Granger. I'm not attracted to her. I'm not attracted to Hermione Granger at all._

Yet his dreams and… _other_ functions seemed to be telling him otherwise.

_I'm not, am I?_

The next morning at breakfast, his mind fought a loosing battle with his eyes to keep her out of his sight. At least she didn't look up again like she had the night before last. He always felt like such a creep when that happened.

_Maybe I am a creep_, he thought as he diverted his eyes once again.

The worst thing, though, was after breakfast. He was the first to leave the table, or at least he had thought so, until he collided with another as he made his way to the door.

He had tried to slip out sideways, as apparently she had done the same, and now they were wedged in the absolutely tiny doorway, pressed face to face.

_And worse,_ Draco thought, c_hest to abundant chest._

His eyes met hers awkwardly in those few seconds, and her face burned with embarrassment before she squeezed out of the predicament they were in and ran, light on her feet, up the stairs and out of his sight. He glanced fleetingly at the table of people he was leaving, and noticed with even more mortification that they were all – every single last one of them – staring at him.


	6. Polyjuice and Breaking the Rules

Chapter 6:

**Chapter 6: Polyjuice and Breaking the Rules**

A cruel shiver mingled with a burning tingle shot through her body as she swallowed the potion.

_Wretched, vile potion,_ she though to herself.

Narcissa Malfoy had been taking regular doses of Polyjuice Potion in order to pose as her son under the many instances that he was required to appear. The stuff had been disgusting to begin with, but it grew worse with every taste. She was beginning to wish that she could just tell the truth, just come out and say it:

"_My son Draco is a Pure-Blood Traitor," _she would tell them. But there was oh so much more to the story than that.

"_Lucius, how could you," her voice had sounded like a frozen wind._

"_Don't question the Dark Lord!" he had shot back at her violently._

"_But it __**wasn't **__the Dark Lord who came up with this insane plan! It was __**you**__, Lucius! Why would you do this to him? Why would you do this to __**me**__? He is my only son, the only child I've ever had, you can't take him away from me!"_

"_It isn't up to you," Lucius had said to her coldly before leaving the room._

That's what you think_, she had said to him silently._

_She made her way, the same day, to visit Severus Snape. She had an idea, and she was going to use Snape to protect her son and herself at the same time. Her sister had been a hindrance, but the plan had proved successful at the end of the day. So far, at least. She hadn't informed him of her full plans, but she did get his promise that he would protect her son._

And consequently, myself,_ she added._

_The next step was the Polyjuice._

_Oh, no, she was getting ahead of herself again._

_The next step was her son. She had to detain him in some way, didn't she? After thinking much on the subject, she concluded that the middle of the night was the best time to approach him. _

_It was 2:04 in the morning, August 1, and she was walking silently to her son's chambers. _

_It was 12:37 in the afternoon and she was leaving the secret hiding place._

_It was 7:00 sharp and she was sitting down to enjoy a nice dinner, everyone unaware of the fact that her son was, on her bidding, just now eating dinner in his cell._

Cell is too cruel, _Narcissa had corrected herself. _ It's more of a… little apartment. Yes, an underground apartment with no windows or doors, and the only way to get out is through the passage that only I have been informed of. And it's in France, too, it can't be too bad. He won't even miss much.

It was 1:57 and she was adding the last ingredient to the Polyjuice Potion. She had "left" the night before for her annual retreat to the Swiss Alps, and now no one would suspect a thing when she was missing for the next few months.

_The Polyjuice had worked amazingly. She had been surprised, of course, to be in her son's body. It did make her feel very awkward. But she got used to it quickly. She got used to the tight muscles around his arms and the agility in which his young body could move. After a while, she even enjoyed it. It was like being young again herself._

_All through the year, she went to school as her son and in the meantime, worked on the project for the Dark Lord. _

_The biggest problem she encountered, thankfully, was this Pansy girl. She was a pushy one, and a smutty one too. With her smushed, arrogant face, she resembled a pig in appearance and a rat in character. Narcissa despised her wholly, and found herself on a few occasions being forced into, quite frankly, disturbing acts with this girl. What scared her the most is the fact that Pansy seemed to expect it, it seemed to be the norm. Narcissa wondered often how long her son had been consorting with this immoral girl. _

_She was happiest when she was able to avoid Pansy, not only because she loathed the girl, but also because it meant she could work. And it was turning out nicely. She was almost finished by winter recess, and the break gave her more time to dedicate to the project. _

_When she finally did finish, she was more proud of herself than she had thought possible. Then, however, came the actual task of killing Dumbledore. She didn't know if she'd be able to, she had never actually killed before. The thoughts of Dumbledore's immense power were frequent in her mind. _

_The final task, as she thought, had been too much for her. She had known that it would happen, but she never knew what to expect. Severus had saved her, though, and she was eternally indebted to him for that._

_She was eternally indebted to him for multiple reasons. He had made the promise to her, he had carried through, he had listened un-judgmentally as she told him of her actions the past few months, he hadn't punished her for it, but instead kept her secret to himself, he had helped her instill the memories into Draco's mind afterwards so that he wouldn't know what had really happened. Yes, Severus Snape had been very helpful to her, and she was very grateful._

_Everything had fallen to pieces, though, on the night that Draco escaped. Even with all of the guards and precautions Narcissa had taken, he had somehow out-maneuvered her and gotten away. It didn't take long for her to find out where he was because of a tracing spell she had placed on him, but it was inconvenient. _

_The incident had forced her to resume the regular Polyjuice intake, and that was perhaps the worst part of it. _

_No_, she corrected,_ the worst part is that now, the tracing spell had been removed._

When Pettigrew, _that rat_, had used the Cruciatus Curse on him, the other spell had ceased to continue effect, which meant that they now had no idea where he was.

It had been difficult to persuade the Death Eaters to attack, because they really had no idea about the situation. Narcissa had told them that _she_ would be stationed at the headquarters that night, that she was working as a spy, and that it was all part of the plan to _pretend_ that they were there to retrieve her son. They all thought that the boy who'd been hit with the Cruciatus Curse was actually her disguised as Draco. It had never occurred to one of them,_ at least I hope not_, she thought, that her son was actually living with the Order, and serious about it, too.

She had escaped that night; how, she knew not. All she knew was that this meant the continuing of Polyjuice consumption, and the never-ending _Occlumency_ practice. The Dark Lord could never find out the truth.

Malfoy dressed in his finest robes for the wedding. He wasn't sure why.

He didn't care particularly about the wedding, apart from the fact that a Weasley was marrying an incredibly beautiful half-Veela, and the concept was entertaining to say the least. He also appreciated the event slightly because it gave him something to do in this seemingly never-ending vacation.

As he sat in the uncomfortable white lawn chair waiting for the ceremony to start, however, he regretted his clothing choice. As he looked around, everyone was dressed rather casually, and he felt ridiculously out of place. Even more out of place than he always felt with these people.

He was grateful when he felt the presence of someone sitting next to him – at least he wouldn't be completely alone anymore. He turned his head to the side and saw with another twinge of regret that his company was Hermione, and a very pretty Hermione at that.

She was dressed in a light and flowing summer dress made of silk (he knew so because a part of it had rubbed gently across his arm a second ago). Strands of her hair, which was loosely done up near the top of her head, fell around her face, framing it elegantly.

As much as he tried not to, he continued to look at her face and eyes. She turned her head towards him and smiled briefly, obviously cheerful about the wedding just as all of the females in the house were. He smiled inwardly but refused to let himself on the outside.

This was going to be a long day.

Hermione was stepping onto the train at King's Cross station, platform Nine and Three-Quarters, with mingled fear and excitement. And of course, there was the occasional twinge of sadness for their beloved Dumbledore, who Hermione continued to miss.

"Hermione, you coming with us?" Harry asked her when she seemed to not be going the same direction as them anymore.

"No, Harry, I've got a meeting, remember?" she answered. "I'm head girl."

"Of course," said Ron. "We all know. You sure are acting a lot like Percy."

Hermione frowned. _That stung_, she thought. _But he doesn't mean it, of course. He's just angry._

Her steps got lighter by the second as she walked down the hall, smiling faces looking back at her, familiar scents wafting through the air. She did love Hogwarts, no matter how crazy each year seemed to be. Relaxed and comfortable now, she made her way to the place where she knew the meeting would be.

3 – Prefects and Heads Only

On entering the room, her spirits seemed to halt in their place. In fact, her whole body halted. The only person in the room was currently Draco Malfoy, who was taking up one whole side of the compartment. His left leg was folded in front of him and his right was laying across the bench seat, and he had a book across his thigh. He seemed to be deeply interested in it, and Hermione blushed for feeling like she was interrupting something. He didn't look up, but she knew that he had heard the door.

_What is that book?_ She tried to catch a glance of the title as he flipped a page, but was unsuccessful. _And what is so interesting about it?_

Hermione sat across from him silently, not knowing whether to say hello or just pretend not to be there. Finally she decided to get out her own book, but as she unzipped her pack to get it, he looked up suddenly with a gasp.

"Shit!" he cursed as he tried to regain control of his breathing. "How long've you been sitting there?"

"Just a second, why?" she said. "Didn't you hear me come in?"

"No," he answered angrily. The compartment was silent for another painful minute and Hermione was forced to think fleetingly of her nightmare about him. She glanced at his eyes at the same time that he glanced at hers, and it seemed to have caused an extreme blush to creep onto his alabaster face. He looked down immediately.

"What are you reading?" Hermione asked. She was trying to be as polite as she could because she knew that they were sharing a dormitory this year.

"A book," he answered shortly. Her cocked eyebrow and skeptical look made him continue, "It's about… well, you probably wouldn't care… it's complicated."

"Try me," she urged. She had never found a book that she wasn't interested in, and it seemed good enough by the way he was absorbed in it.

"Well, fine," he agreed reluctantly. He snapped it shut and held it up to her to show the title. "Papillon," he read out loud to her. "He was a French prisoner, and it's about his escape… It's a true story," he added. "Historical stuff, you know. He was a Muggle."

She held out her hand and he tossed it to her, and as she flipped through the pages, she said, "Hmm, sounds good. You'll have to he let me borrow it when you're finished." Now it was her turn to blush. She went silent, looking down at the book, until she shut it and handed it back to him, face still very red.

He laughed lightly, apparently amused at her discomfort, and said, "Yeah, sure."

"Hermione?"

"Hermione?? You there?"

"HEY"

Hermione snapped out off her momentary trance and shifted in her seat to face Ron, who was looking very put off indeed.

"What is it with you?" he questioned harshly. She only shrugged her shoulders and moved her eyes to Harry, who was looking at her questionably.

"Hermione, are you alright? You seem to be pretty distracted lately," he said to her, much nicer than Ron was being.

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just… thinking, that's all," she answered airily. The sound of the statement reminded her of Luna Lovegood, and she beat herself over the head mentally. "I mean, I'm busy, of course. I've got a lot on my plate."

"Not much, really," said Ron. "That's another thing, Hermione, you've not been eating so much lately. I'm… I mean, me and Harry, of course, are worried about you. You know, we don't want you to be like, bulimic or something."

Hermione shot him an incredulous glance before letting a little laugh escape her mouth. "Bulimic? No, I'm definitely not. Anyways, Ron, bulimic people eat _more_ than most people do, not less."

Harry giggled a little too, and Hermione smiled at him. He had been the more understanding of the two lately. Ron always seemed to be on edge, and had exploded his anger on her more than once already this term, and it had only been three weeks so far.

It was now Sunday, and the three were planning a sort of revival for the DA for the next weekend. Of course, none of the students knew for sure that they were part of the Order, but most of them suspected it. The majority of the students in the higher years were practically begging for a new training club (although the majority was still only about a quarter of the previous population of the school).

Hogwarts had been reopened, but despite the security measures, not many students had returned. Hermione didn't really blame them, or their parents, because it was haunting at times. The Astronomy Tower was deserted at all times, no matter what, and had become a sort of taboo. No one even went near it, for some fear of a reoccurrence.

Somehow, everyone seemed to be accepting Malfoy back into the school without question. _Maybe, _Hermione thought, _they never knew what happened exactly. Or maybe they're all afraid of him. Or maybe it's because he's head boy, so they feel like he must have been innocent._

Whatever the reason, there didn't seem to be much of a problem.

Actually, there didn't seem to be many problems at all. Hermione was starting to get anxious, she had never gone this long without getting into something at Hogwarts.

The most exciting thing going on was the meeting plan, which was going quite smoothly. Now that they had a reasonable Headmistress instead of that wench Umbridge, they were allowed to publicly announce plans and get people involved. They had been given permission by Professor McGonagall to use the Room of Requirement, which was a plus. They wouldn't even have to worry about purchasing equipment or anything.

Hermione had just finished lunch with the two boys and was now heading to the Gryffindor common room, which she still frequented rather often. She stopped, however, in the middle of the hallway.

"Wait, Ron, didn't you bring the flyers to lunch?"

He looked down at his hands and then to the door to the Great Hall. "I don't think so. I don't remember taking them from your dorm."

Hermione sighed at him and then said, "Well, why don't I go get them and meet you two in the common room?" There was no sense in getting angry, that would only produce another argument.

She walked quickly down the many halls, and arrived at the portrait to the Heads' dormitory in only a few minutes. She said the password and then climbed through the portrait hole. For a second she thought that the room was empty, but then she noticed Draco sitting in the armchair in the corner.

"What're you doing back so soon?" he asked her through squinted eyes. "Don't you have a meeting with Weasley and Potter about…" he held a piece of paper up and studied it for a moment before continuing. " 'The RDA, Renewed Dumbledore's Army'," he read. Hermione's stomach plummeted. She didn't feel like dealing with him teasing her now. He was never exactly _mean _to her, but he did this sort of thing all the time.

"Draco, give me those," she commanded without even taking another step forward.

He pouted his lip a little (for some reason making her realize how hot the room was very suddenly), and said, "Do I have to? Geez, all I want is to be accepted by my peers…" He grinned at her a little in a mocking way, and she realized that this was going to be more difficult than she had thought.

Without thinking over it, she remarked, "Well, then, why don't you join us?"

His face fell and he frowned a little before answering, "No, I don't need classes. I can fight dark wizards all right on my own."

Hermione scoffed skeptically at him. "I'm sure. Well then, if that's all – " She took a few steps forward and reached for the paper in his hand, but he moved it before she could take it from him.

"Don't be so pushy, Granger," he raised his eyebrows at her. "And anyways, that's _not_ all."

"What do you mean, Draco? What else?" she was beginning to get angry now.

"You're going to have to cancel your meeting, we've got a prefects and heads one in, ohh, three minutes?"

A wave of memory rolled through Hermione and all at once she became very anxious.

"Three minutes!? What am I supposed to do?"

"I suggest we both head to Professor McGonagall's office now," he answered dryly.

An hour later, Draco emerged from the Headmistress' office right behind Hermione. He walked a little faster to catch up with her, and it wasn't hard because she was walking very slowly.

"So boring it could almost kill you, huh?" He said to her. She turned her face to him and answered the question with a definite "yes" from the look in her eyes.

"Man, I need to get out of here," he remarked. He watched her expression change, but she didn't look at him. "I think I'll go into Hogsmeade."

She looked at him sharply. "Are you kidding? We've _just_ been over all of that crap about safety and rules. You're going to sneak out?"

"Yep," he replied lightly. He quite enjoyed getting these reactions out of her. He had noticed that Hermione seemed to be very edgy. All of her emotions were heightened, and he particularly loved seeing her in disbelief. That was the reason for his next comment.

"You wanna come along?"

The color drained slightly from her face and she stopped walking (although she had hardly been in the first place). She looked at him with eyebrows high on her forehead and mouth hanging open just a tiny bit. She pursed her lips and then bit the bottom one, apparently debating her answer. Draco didn't wait for it.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her along the corridor (which had been deserted by the prefects long ago due to their faster pace) and led her down a maze of turns. She didn't seem to be resisting, and even ran with him a little in some parts. Before he knew it he was through the familiar tunnel and emerging out of the trapdoor in Honeydukes.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she whispered.

"Don't worry, this is going to be fun."

"Granger, did I ever tell you about my childhood?" Draco slurred through his ninth (?) glass of firewhiskey.

"Draco, you're so drunk," she shook he head at him. He had led her into Hogsmeade and straight into the Hog's Head. She had, after a lot of convincing, had once sip of the drink, but immediately decided that she liked Butterbeer much more.

"No I'm not Hermione," he said clearer this time. A tingle rant through her body upon hearing her first name from his mouth (which he almost _never_ said), but she told herself that it was just a chill. "I'm not drunk," he said again. "I'm just a little… Okay, yeah, I'm pissed. I'm wasted."

"And I really am tired," he added a few seconds later. At the prospect of having to sneak Draco's unconscious body back into the castle without even knowing the way, she took action.

"Come on, we're leaving," she said peremptorily. "_Now_."

Even in his state, Draco was able to find their way back without a problem. After getting into their common room, however, he became slightly (okay, very) dizzy, and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder for support.

"Hey, Hermione?" he said to her.

"Yes?" She felt the same tingle again, and knew that it wasn't a cold breeze this time because the room and herself were both rather warm.

"Thanks."

"For what?" She asked, herself groggy now.

"You know, being… well, not hating me," he stumbled.

The next morning, Hermione rushed down to the Great Hall to meet Harry and Ron and apologize for never going to the Gryffindor common room. To her surprise, they were already standing at the entrance, apparently waiting for her. Ron looked very cross, and Hermione slowed her steps. It just then occurred to her that she might have to make up an excuse.

"Guys, I am _really_ sorry," she said genuinely.

"Where were you Hermione?" Harry asked, trying hard to be calm.

"Yeah and don't tell us that you had another meeting," Ron shot in, destroying Hermione's hope of avoiding an argument.

"But there _was_ a meeting," she said, not untruthfully.

"Yeah, but that only lasted for one hour," Harry interjected.

"Or did you forget that there are Gryffindor prefects too?" said Ron rather vindictively. When Hermione didn't say anything, he went on. "Well, there are. And they informed us that after the meeting, you and Malfoy were taking your sweet time together."

"We were not!" shot Hermione. "We were just walking slowly…"

"So slowly that it was midnight by the time you made it back to your dorm, and you couldn't come to meet us that late?"

"No, Ron, we didn't go straight back," she said rashly, and immediately wished that she could take it back.

"Oh, so you did go have a little rendezvous with the Slytherin Asshole, then?"

"A rendezvous? No, Ron!" she screeched. She was getting rather offended. "Listen, I'm really sorry that I didn't make the meeting. Now will you just lay off it?"

"Hermione, where did you two go?" Harry asked softly. "Is it that big of a secret?"

"No, it's not… we just sent to Hogsmeade, that's all." _Why do these two have to be so inquisitive all the time?_ She asked herself.

"Hogsmeade…" Ron contemplated out loud. "Did you two spend a night at the Three Broomsticks together?"

"Ron! Let it go already!" Hermione yelled at him. "Anyways, if we wanted to spend the night together, it wouldn't be that hard seeing as we do share a private apartment." _I'll definitely regret that one,_ she had time to tell herself before Ron, mouth gaping, turned around and left into the Great Hall, dragging Harry with him.

_Great, my only two friends hate me,_ she mused as she turned straight around and headed for her first class.


	7. Requst and Reparation

Chapter Eight:

**Chapter Seven: A Request and Reparations**

Draco awoke with his head filled with wet sand (or that's what it felt like, anyways). He heaved himself into a sitting position and glanced at his clock with a stab of pain in his temple.

_8:02… Merlin, what happened?_

All of the previous night's events rushed back to him, and his head throbbed harder with embarrassment.

_I am such a bloody fool_, he told himself as he lifted his tired body out of bed. He only had twenty-eight minutes until his first subject, so he tried to hurry as he stripped off his clothes and entered the cold water in his private shower. The water washed away part of his dizziness, and when he stepped with his white foot onto the plush bath rug, he felt at least partially refreshed.

Still, there was a sort of confinement in his chest, something he could physically feel, and he struggled trying to locate the reason behind it as he dressed and headed quickly to his class.

It was Defense Against the Dark Arts first, and he shared the class with Hermione. He tried to keep his eyes on Professor Tonks (as they were forced to call her) as she taught them about…

Soft skin. Really soft. He couldn't feel it, but just looking at it, he could tell it was soft. Hermione's chin rested on her palm as she scrawled quick notes with her quill.

"Take out your wands," today they were learning how to…

_Hold it in_, he told himself,_ this is wrong._

_Don't feel this way._

"The incantation is _Claudego_, and it is meant to be a protection. It shields from most strong…"

Pain. His head was still throbbing.

_I would give my life if it meant I could get out of this retched class,_ he told himself as he attempted the spell, but failed. He was too distracted, there was too much going on right now.

_Or is there? What exactly __**is**__ going on?_

Draco watched out of the corner of his eye as Hermione twisted her long hair deftly into a knot on the base of her neck, which was now exposed in all of its alabaster glory. He noted a small freckle at the neckline of her robe, and somehow he felt jealous of that freckle.

_Why?_ He asked himself vaguely. He wasn't even sure exactly what he was trying to figure out, but either way, it wasn't working.

He walked out of the classroom some time later, dragging his feet and wishing for nothing more than to simply take the previous night's actions back. He felt certain that everything he was feeling now was connected to that, and so he blamed himself for his stupidity.

Draco would have asked himself why he took her there, but he knew the answer.

He was impulsive, always had been, and when he got an idea in his head, there was no going back. He had to being doing something, anything, all the time. He was continuously bored, and evermore searching for something to occupy himself.

He usually turned to women. Draco never lied to himself, he knew that was what it had all been about. All of those younger girls, all of those little bimbos looking for a hook up… He had never cared particularly, about the girls or about the hooking up, but somehow the thought made him sick when remembering.

And then there was Pansy.

_Or was there?_ He asked himself.

He remembered the times the year before, remembered them with some vague sort of haze, as if it had never really happened. He didn't know _why_ anything had happened. Of course, he had always particularly enjoyed Pansy, the control he had over her, the way he could make her bow to his will. The power felt good.

But he never was attracted to her. Actually, quite the opposite. The sight of her repelled him, but her personality was even worse.

_Or, lack of personality_, he corrected himself.

She was just so… banal. So boring in every way. Sure, she knew how to get what she wanted. She was conniving, he had to give her that. But that was really all she had going for her, and it was depressing and repulsing at the same time.

No, Draco didn't like Pansy. Not romantically, not platonically, not even really as a human being. He preferred girls who had _more_.

_I would, anyways, if I ever met one._

He let his thoughts wander as he passed through the threshold into his private dorm and dropped his body into the plush bed, letting it's down comforters and soft pillows engulf him.

_She's got more,_ he told himself, feeling slightly guilty but not restraining the thought nonetheless. _She's got everything, really. She's smart, genius even, and she's honorable. She's brave. She can fight. She's…_

Her face appeared in his mind's eye, and he couldn't stop the end of the sentence from coming.

_She's appealing. Somehow, I don't know how, but somehow appealing. Not exactly stunning, but her eyes… they've got so much strength and expression. They've got…a spark. _

The image of her naked form collapsed in the shower flashed before him, and he stopped himself.

_What in God's name am I doing?_ he scolded himself. _Never, Draco, never. She's not for you. She's not…_

The door burst open, and Draco shot up to see just who he least wanted to.

"Draco!" screeched the false mouth of Pansy Parkinson. "It's been _sooo _long!"

He stared at her for a moment as she approached and plopped herself down next to him. He didn't even blink, just stared.

"What? What're you… how'd you get in here?" he managed to get out through his shock.

"Ohh, Draky, don't you know by now? I've got _ways_ of getting – any – thing – I – want," she said in broken syllables as her fingers walked up his flat stomach. She moved closer to him and her leg somehow became wrapped around his waist. She kissed him, her flat face so close to him that he felt he might hurl.

_This is absolutely terrible_,he had time to think before he pushed her off of him.

"Pansy! What are you _doing_?" he exploded at her. She looked so surprised, it was a shock to him how surprised she looked. How could he have ever…? Ugh.

She sighed heavily, her face scrunching up even smaller than usual, and she whimpered a little before saying, "It's all going to be different now, isn't it?"

Draco didn't even want to know what she meant. "Yes, it is. Leave now, please," he rose and opened the door for her.

Even more surprising to him then was her next move. Her face became beat red and she yelled, "Fine! You were never a good lover anyways!" As tears of rage and hate poured down her reddened cheeks, she stomped out of the room.

Draco didn't know what had just happened, but he laughed then for the first time that day. It felt good, and he thanked Pansy silently for allowing him that pleasure.

But when the laughter faded, he was left with more confusion than before. It was becoming clearer and clearer that the previous year had not been real. He started to wonder about the possibilities as he furrowed his brow and walked down the long halls to his next class.

Hermione ate meals alone in her room for the next two weeks. Ron and, surprisingly, Harry, had not recovered from her offense by that time. It was puzzling, this grudge they were holding. Somehow she felt betrayed, like she didn't deserve this for such a small mistake.

And she was lonely. Ron and Harry were her lifeblood, she didn't have any real friends besides them. Sure, there was Ginny, but she had a new boyfriend now (what was his name again?), and even though they weren't serious, Hermione felt awkward knowing the history between her and Harry.

Hermione had started writing a diary. Pathetic as it was, this notebook was all she felt she could get her feelings across to. She brought it to her classes, and sometimes took notes, but mostly just wrote her thoughts.

_October 7,_ she wrote, and then stopped.

_What is there to say? Everything, the same._

That was all she wrote. She shut the book with a slight bit of anger and decided to go for a walk on this Saturday afternoon.

The grounds were still warm, and the sun shone in her eyes brightly as she stepped out of the heavy castle doors. Green hills rolled, and the Giant Squid floated languidly in the lake. Immediately, Hermione felt a warmth spread over her, and her worries eased more with every step she took down the long pathway.

That is, until she saw a familiar figure emerging in the distance, apparently walking toward her from the opposite end of the path around the lake.

He had plagued her mind since the night that they went into Hogsmeade together, and Hermione found her thoughts retreating to him more and more as she tried to avoid him. Of course, avoidance was impossible completely, seeing as they shared all of the same classes as head boy and girl. But she made attempts to keep her eyes off on him. Even if he wasn't trying to do the same thing.

Multiple times since the night two weeks prior, she had glanced over to see him eyeing her, always with a curious face. She could never tell what he was thinking, and it frustrated her more than it should have. She wanted to know why he was so interested in staring at her, even though she truly did know the answer somewhere inside of her mind.

Draco shared something with her. There was a connection, invisible, that bound her to him and him to her. She could feel it when looking into his eyes, as she had those few times over the vacation, and a few times since, also.

He was nearing her now, and making no attempt to avert his eyes from her. She felt a sort of bravery from the combination of sun and curiosity washing over her, and she held the gaze as they walked toward each other.

His saunter was intriguing. He walked as if he had nowhere to go, and yet all of the importance in the world, at the same time. His slow pace made up for his long gait as his thin legs moved back and forth in a smooth manner. He was dressed in black slacks and a dark green sweater, and this was the first time she'd seen him without his school robes on since summer. His stretched frame was more apparent, and the triangular shape of his torso was more evident. He looked more like a man than Hermione had remembered. His blonde hair shone in the sunshine, and the glint of it made him look almost angelic. At this thought, Hermione let out an incredulous laugh.

They were close enough now for him to have heard it, and he stopped walking only a few feet from her.

"What'chu laughin' about, Granger?" he asked lightheartedly.

She wouldn't have ever told him the real answer, so she scanned her brain for a more suitable answer.

"You laughing about how attractive I am? I'll bet you were laughing at yourself for thinking that you have a chance with me," he smiled with his eyebrows raised.

"No, Malfoy, I was laughing about… something else," she answered matter-of-factly.

"I'll bet," he repeated. "What brings you to the grounds today?"

She frowned. It seemed like he was _trying_ to have a conversation with her. "I'm just walking, you know, getting some fresh air," she answered casually.

_Fine, Draco_, she thought to herself_, I'll play along with whatever you're doing here._

"Yeah, me too," he replied, still smirking. Hermione let her eyes lock onto his, and a strange contraction in her throat happened.

"Why don't we go in the shade?" he asked smoothly. Hermione accepted, partly because it was hot in the sun, and partly because she wanted to know what he was up to. They walked to a nearby tree and Hermione planted herself up against it as Draco sprawled himself out in the grass on his back. No one said anything for a few moments, and Hermione had just opened her mouth to speak (about God knows what), when Draco beat her to it.

"You know, Hermione," he began, and her chest tightened familiarly. "I meant that before."

"What?" she asked, genuinely confused for a moment.

"When I thanked you for not hating me," he answered without shame.

"I can't believe you remember that," Hermione laughed. "You were so intoxicated at the time."

"Yeah, I was… But I do remember, and I did mean it," he repeated. Hermione was silently ripping individual blades of grass apart, not looking at him at all. She felt the rising warmth in her cheeks and she tried to suppress the blush that she knew was coming on.

"Hermione," he said intently, and sent another chill down her spine. (_Why does that happen?_ She asked herself.) "I need to ask you a favor."

She looked up then, curiously, to meet his eyes. She was overwhelmingly surprised to see that they were filled with a sort of fear – something she hadn't seen in him before.

"What is it?" she asked in a whisper.

He bit his lip, apparently trying to find the words. "You're smarter than me," he stated. Hermione frowned, more confused now than ever. Was he going to ask for help with his studies?

"I need to figure something out – something really important – and I need help," he continued. "I don't want to tell you too much – not unless you agree…" his voice trailed off and he looked at her expectantly. His anxiety contrasted with his manipulative eyes, and Hermione wasn't sure exactly what to say.

"Umm, you… you think I could help you?" she asked him, still whispering.

"I think you're the only one who _can_," he answered quickly. He was good at this.

"Okay… I'll help," Hermione agreed, with only a small amount of reluctance.

Draco took no time getting to the point. "I think someone did something to me last year. I… I don't think that was me," he blurted out, as if he'd been wanting to say it the whole time.

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Draco, you were misled…" she tried to say, but he didn't respond. Instead, he just kept explaining his theory.

"I sometimes feel like my memories are not real. I feel like… that none of that stuff last year _happened_ at all. Or, not like it happened to me. I don't feel like I did any of that," he ran his hand through his hair urgently.

"I don't even know _how_ to do all that, I don't know how it happened. I feel like – "

"Like the memories have been created in your head?" Hermione interrupted.

"YES!"

"But Draco, I was there. I saw you last year," she argued. "I _saw_ you. You were there."

"But… okay, here," he paused, trying again to formulate his words. As he bit his lip again, she saw the passion in his face.

_He really does believe this,_ she realized.

"Okay, sometimes I have this flash of memory – or well, I don't know what it is. It's a flash of an image, or a second in time. And I can see this place, I can make out these objects – It doesn't _fit_. It's like there are memories in my brain that contrast each other. Like I was two places at once," he said heatedly. He was trying so hard to make her understand.

"Wait, two places at once?" she asked. "Did you use a time-turner?"

"A what?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "No, I didn't. Here's the thing Hermione – all of my memories of last year are fuzzy. I see things through a blur, I don't remember some things fully… Except those flashes," he studied her face before continuing. "Those flashes are clear as day, clear as if they happened yesterday."

"Okay, I'm interested," she stated. "I've got to do some research."

She got up from her place next to the tree and looked down at Draco, who was still laying in the grass on his side with his elbow propping him up. He smiled, a true smile, and she smiled back.

"Meet me in the common room tonight?" he asked her.

"Ummm, yeah. I'll come there after the library," she answered before she walked quickly up the path and back into the castle. Before she walked through the huge doors, she looked back at him. He was still there, laying on his back now, with his hands under his head. He looked pleased.

Draco paced the room expectantly. It was now just past nine pm, and Hermione was nowhere to be found. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Draco hadn't gone looking for her, so she could very well be somewhere to be found, but he simply hadn't found her. And she hadn't found him, either.

_That's it,_ he told himself with resolve, despite his shaking hands. _I'm going to find her._

It didn't take him long, for he had known Hermione long enough to know that the library was the most likely hideout for her. He found her small frame hunched over a round table in the corner of the library, her hair acting as a curtain around her face, with a very large book. Her thin legs were folded neatly underneath her, and she was shaking her foot around as if she'd had a little too much caffeine.

"Found something?" he asked her without previously announcing himself. She jumped her chair and gasped so loudly that all of the students in the library (which were only about five) looked over with frowning faces.

She recovered from her shock quickly, but her breathing remained shallow.

"Yes, look here," she said and stood slid the book over a few inches to him, where his long torso bent down to read the impossibly small print.

"_**Gnograph**__ – an incantation which allows a person to cover another person's experiences with his or her own, or to replace one's memories with someone else's_," Draco read out loud. "Shit, Hermione, where did you find this?" he asked in amazement.

She smiled at him mischievously and said simply, "A girl like me knows where to find the information she wants."

The comment made Draco think fleetingly of Pansy, and that thought combined with the significantly lighter burden on his mind gave way to a genuine smile, something that happened very seldom on his face.

Hermione studied the way his eyes glittered in the low light of the library and the wrinkles in his cheeks as well as the perfectly white condition of his teeth.

_My parents would love him_, she thought. _Best teeth a dentist could wish for on a patient._

"Is that all, then?" he asked her. "Did you find a – "

She shook her head quickly, knowing his question. "But I will. I just need a little more time…" she said as she yawned. They looked at each other awkwardly for the next few moments, both unsure of what should be said or done next.

"I – "

"Maybe – "

They both began speaking at once, and then fell awkwardly silent again. Draco held out his hand, motioning her to speak.

"Maybe you should just go to sleep, I was going to say."

He shook his head at her suggestion. "No, if you're still working then I'll help, or something… I can't let you take care of all this by yourself – I mean, it's not even your problem and you're putting more effort…" he rambled on.

"Okay," she plopped back into her seat. "Maybe you'd like to search this one?" She held up another large book, this one older and more worn.

"I – sure…" said Draco hesitantly. He didn't want to search through a thousand pages for the rest of the night.

_If only there was a way…_

"Hermione, you're a smart witch," he told her for the second time that day. The statement had the same effect as the last time – a slow creeping blush into her cheeks (what he didn't know was that the blush came more from the sound of her name from his mouth than from the compliment). "Is there any way…" he trailed off, unsure of whether he should ask or not.

"Come out with it, then," she yawned again. "Is there any way what?"

"Well, that we could _come up with_ a counter?"

He studied her face, grateful for the somewhat hopeful expression she bore as she contemplated the idea.

"I don't know, Draco. It might be very difficult, because well… I haven't exactly made up any spells yet, and I don't know if I even could, seeing as this one is so old…"

"I get it," he said forlorn.

"No, it's not that I won't try, just – don't get your hopes up, okay?" she corrected with a smile.

"Merlin," Draco said incredulously. "Now I know why those two dimwits keep you around all the time." She was about to protest his insult, but his joking smile made her rethink.

"Well, let's get some rest, then," she said, still smiling. _Oh, Merlin, stop smiling like a buffoon Hermione. _She stood and walked out of the library, Draco trailing her quickly. When they reached the place where their paths would separate, he grabbed her arm.

"Granger – thanks," he said. She smiled even more because she could feel the truth in his thankfulness, but her smile was replaced quickly with a look of sheer shock.

He pulled her quickly into an embrace, his thin arms proving their strength by wrapping all the way around hers and her body and lifting her slightly off the ground. He squeezed her so tightly, she had to wonder when the last time was that he hugged someone.

When he replaced her to the ground less than ten seconds later, she glanced into his face and saw what he was probably seeing on hers. Extremely red cheeks, wide eyes, and utter amazement.

He turned away from her quickly and walked up the stairs to his dorm.

_Brilliant_, he told himself as his hands shook. _Why in the name of all things sane did I do that? Bloody brilliant._

Hermione figured it was about time to get things right with her male counterparts, so she went down to breakfast with the intention of apologizing profusely, even if she didn't actually feel that sorry. She felt sorry enough that she'd not spoken with her friends for weeks.

When she arrived, she was not surprised to see Ron and Harry already seated at the Gryffindor table, chowing down on the fresh eggs, bacon, and pastries. A pang of loneliness shot through her stomach as she saw the two of them chatting happily, as if they never missed her a bit. She approached with caution. She didn't want to flare their angers up, so she tried to look as cheery as possible, to hint that she was in the mood for making up. When Ron looked up at her and half-smiled through his mouthful of food, she knew it would be okay.

"Hey Ron, Harry," she greeted. "How have you two been?"

They both answered with something along the lines of, "We've been fine," but then Harry said something that really surprised her.

"I've missed you, Hermione," he admitted.

"We both have," Ron agreed. Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes as she looked down at her two companions.

_Like little puppies_, she reasoned. _They get mad and bite, but then they always want to snuggle at the end of the day._

She sat next to Harry and across from Ron and the three of them resumed life as normal – conversations of Neville's new plant (a bupleurum) and how it worked wonders on Harry aching back after he'd fallen down the stairs (a story that Ron and Harry had to fill her in on). By the end of lunch, Hermione was feeling like nothing had ever happened.

Ron had to go to the common room to fetch something quickly and Hermione and Harry waited for him in the Great Hall. To Hermione's surprise, Harry leaned close to her just after Ron left the room.

"Hermione, I need your help," he said quietly, so no one in the hall could hear.

Her face showed her perplexity, and she whispered back just as quietly, "What is it, Harry?"

"Let's go somewhere else, I don't want people hearing this," he said as he rose and took Hermione by the elbow. He led her outside and over to a bench, where they sat facing each other, Hermione's legs folded Indian-style and Harry's straddling the cement slab.

"I need to go to Godric's Hollow," he blurted out just as they sat down. "You know about the plans I made last year, and I only put them on hold because of Mrs. Weasley's urging, but I can't take it anymore, Hermione. I've got to get to it. I need to find him and _end_ all of this."

"I understand," Hermione said slowly, pausing for a moment to think over things. "But what I don't understand is why you need me for this…"

"Are you kidding?" he looked into her eyes with his own emerald green ones filled to the brim with emotion. "I'll always need you."

They held each others' gaze for a moment before Hermione (and Harry, it seemed) realized what he just said. Harry blushed madly and Hermione added another thing to her list of confusions.

"You know, I'll need your help with a lot of stuff…" he corrected, but too late for the damage had already been done.

"Yeah," Hermione reasoned, trying to lighten the awkwardness.

"For one, I need help – "

"Harry! Hermione! What're you guys doing out here? I told you I'd be right back!" Ron burst out of the heavy fortress doors.

"Sorry mate!" Harry yelled over to him. "Later?" he whispered to Hermione.

"Sure," she agreed, unsure of why this was a secret to Ron.

"Granger where've you been?" Draco asked her as she walked in the common room well after midnight. The smile on her face made him guess what she would say.

"I've made up with Ron and Harry," she answered as she plopped into a plush armchair and rested her head. "We were catching up."

_Great, she's back with Potter and Weasley,_ he seethed, although he was completely unsure why he was so angry about it.

He looked up to see her breathing deeply with a look of utter contentment on her face, and he had to admit a sort of jealousy filling him. He pinned it on the fact that he hadn't been that happy in… well, ever.

"You should probably go to bed, Granger. It's late, you wouldn't want to miss your morning classes," he called to her as he bounded up the steps to his dorm. She rose and started walking over to her set of stairs, but she stopped halfway across the room.

"Wait – Draco," she called after him just before he shut his bedroom door. "Why were you still awake if it's so late."

"I was waiting for you so that we might… you know, try to work on the spell inventing or something," he answered, trying to sound the less pathetic than he felt. He shut the door then and fell into bed, her face plastered against his brain.

_Granger,_ he said to himself before drifting off to sleep._ Can't you get out of my head?_

It was the first day of November and Harry was sitting on his bed watching the slow fall of leaves off of the trees that surrounded the grounds. Fall was his favorite time of year.

The previous night had been a fun Halloween, like always, and Ron had retired early on account of his full stomach after the feast. Harry was happy for this, because it gave him time to talk over his plans with Hermione, and finish the conversation they'd started two weeks prior.

This Wednesday afternoon, Harry had a break from his Potions class, which gave him time to think.

The night before, Harry had asked Hermione to help him train for the battle that was doubtless going to happen, but that was just the beginning. He would only have one chance to get out of Hogwarts without everyone being suspicious, and that was the Winter holiday, coming up in a month and a half. He would have to train mentally and physically in that month and a half, but even more, he'd have to improve his spells. He needed to find a way to kill Voldemort without the Avada Kedavra, because not only did he not want to perform an Unforgivable, but he also didn't know if he even had the capacity to do that. He didn't think he could hate enough.

He was trying to brainstorm ideas, and his mind started drifting to the old action movies that he'd seen a few times when Dudley didn't know he was in the room. He had seen men kill with guns and knives, and he began to think of Muggle weapons as an option. Voldemort wouldn't expect that, would he?

Later than night, Harry had plans to meet in the library with Hermione, to try to find spells that might suit his needs better than a machete would. He headed down there at about seven (after convincing Ron that he wouldn't want to join them and that they were just studying for NEWTs, which Ron definitely would not want to start doing yet.

Harry did feel bad for lying to Ron, but he knew that Ron would somehow blab to his mum, and then she'd get involved and try to stop him, or delay him, or whatever. And Harry really did not want that again. He knew that she meant well, but it was too much to ask for him to let the darkest wizard of all time roam the streets freely, inflicting pain on anyone he might choose.

No, Harry had to stop him. He had to do it soon.

"Harry, there you are!" Hermione whispered energetically. "I've been waiting forever! Here, look, I found... this," she said as she pulled out a small leather-bound book from under the others. "And this," another small one, looked like it might be over a thousand years old. He read the titles on each of them.

"_How to defeat a dark wizard_, Hermione? That might be too elementary," he said skeptically. This book had to have been written before Voldemort was even born, and no one could have predicted a wizard _that_ dark. "Hmm, this one looks better – _The Enemy: Be Prepared,_" he held up the newer-looking one. "Have you looked through these yet?"

She shook her head. "Nope, that's second," she said. "First we've got to get as big of a variety as possible, and then weed out the bad ones."

Harry smiled at his insane bookworm friend. "Don't you think you're finished getting the biggest variety?" he asked, motioning to the mounds of books on the table. She smiled at him in the way that only she could, with a mischievous face concerning knowledge.

_No one else could be that excited about learning,_ he thought to himself in adoration. _Or maybe, she's just excited to be helping __**me.**_

He brushed off that last thought as irrational. _No way in heaven_, he told himself adamantly. Harry wasn't sure what he felt for Hermione just then, but he knew for sure it wasn't what she felt for him. He pushed all thoughts of that out of his mind.

"Let's get going," she said, handing him _The Enemy_. "You read this one."


	8. Success

Chapter Ten

**Chapter Eight: Success**

Hermione woke to the sight of soft snowfall – the first of the year. She breathed in deeply to inhale the scent of winter with all of its crispness and clarity as she threw the duvet off of her bare legs and made toward her private bathroom.

She had spent the last month or so helping Harry and Draco simultaneously, somehow managing to make significant headway in both. With Harry, she had found a spell that she was almost completely sure would work (the incantation was _Amorcid_, and would kill Voldemort with the only thing he never had – unconditional love). If only they could test it somehow, they would be completely sure, but that wasn't possible. They had also been training physically and practicing Occlumency almost every night. Hermione and Harry both were improving in their abilities, which was impressive considering the magnitude of ability it takes to perform.

With Draco it was a different story (it always was with him somehow). They brewed potion after potion, tried numerous home-invented spells, but nothing seemed to work. Then, a week before (on the very first day of December, actually), they made some progress. Draco had ingested a potion that they made out of bark from a Maidenhair tree, anise, and frankincense. All are known to have powers of healing memory loss, and they tried it as a last resort. The frankincense was hard to find because of its rarity, but once they brewed the potion they knew it was worth it.

Draco had smelled it before tasting, just to know what he was up against. The smell, apparently, had been so strong that it brought back some of his hidden memories all on its own. He had yelled and pushed his palms on his eyes, fell to the ground, and seemed to pass out. Hermione didn't know what he'd seen, but she was sure it was something bad because he had woken and immediately spilled his stomach onto the floor. Afterwards he'd refused to talk about it, and went back to his room. Hermione didn't ask questions – she was beginning to tell when Draco wanted to be on his own.

So now, a week later, Hermione dried herself off from her morning shower and looked over at the large vial filled with the memory potion, which sat on the counter next to her large mirror.

"Draco?" she called as she knocked on his bedroom door. "Can I come in?"

"What'chu want Granger? It's early," he mumbled from inside his room.

She stepped in lightly, holding the heavy phial, and stood near the doorway.

"I know it's early, why do you thing I'm here now? I had to come before classes," she said, as if he should have known that. "We need to try this again, Draco. We need to know if – well, if we've got it."

"We've got it, Granger," he said as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "And I don't really feel like trying it again right now."

"I'm confused now. I thought you _wanted_ to know what happened to you last year – have you lost interest?" she mocked.

"I haven't lost anything, it's just," he paused as he often did and ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to brush it out of his face. "It's just I don't want it to all spring on me at once," he finished.

"Fine, suit yourself," she said as she turned to leave. "Oh, and by the way, Herbology is in five minutes," she added and quite enjoyed watching him leap from his bed as if it'd caught on fire.

That night Hermione sat in Tonks' office with Harry (the place they'd been using to practice secretly). After a few tiring bouts of Occlumency, they both lay back in their armchairs and breathed deeply.

"Harry," Hermione inquired after a little while. "Why is it that you don't want Ron knowing about all this?" She had been dying to ask him, and she felt like maybe now was the right timing. She couldn't figure out for the life of her why Harry would hide this from his best mate.

"Oh, I dunno," Harry said. "It's really hard to explain Hermione. I'm planning on telling him sometime, but…" When she looked at him skeptically he was forced to continue.

"Okay, here's the thing," he spoke slowly and painfully. "He doesn't want _you_ to know about all of this. He told me, 'Harry, you better not get Hermione involved in whatever it is you're planning'. And, well, Hermione – "

"Wait, so you're telling me that Ron wanted me left in the dark?" she interrupted, but then quickly realized her hypocrisy. She blushed and said, "Sorry, go on Harry."

"Well, he thinks that you'll get hurt or something. I tried to tell him, but he's just so worried for you. You'd think… well, anyways… He's worried. He wants you to be safe from everything I'm planning. And I don't feel like fighting with him – you know how he's been lately, so moody," they both chuckled a little for the truth in that statement. "But I had to, Hermione," Harry said, very serious suddenly. "I needed your help so badly, and I would never have gotten this far without you." He looked down at his hands and Hermione studied the strange expression on his face. He looked confused and resolute at the same time.

"Harry – " Hermione started, but was entirely unsure of what she was trying to say. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't her, and that he was capable of doing it all on his own. She wanted to tell him that she was proud of his courage and strength, and that she was happy to be there for him. She wanted to say that he was the best friend she could ever ask for, and that she owed him as much.

But she couldn't find the words, so they sat quietly. To Hermione's complete surprise, Harry stood abruptly and went over to where she was sitting. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up from her seat and then into a big bear hug. She buried her head in his cloaks and felt a familiar stirring in her stomach with the realization that Harry was reminding her of the embrace that Draco had sprung on her those few weeks ago.

Harry held her tightly in an innocent way, and when he released her, Hermione felt like that was the very best hug she'd ever had.

"Thanks for everything, Hermione," he said with a brotherly smile.

When they began Occlumency again a few minutes later, it was with a significantly lighter hearts.

"Granger!" Hermione heard as she snapped out of the trance she was in.

"Draco!" she returned. "What in Merlin's name are you doing in here?" He had come in on her and Harry only minutes after they resumed their practicing. Harry was staring at him with an utterly bemused look on his face.

"I – " he began, but stopped and looked at Harry briefly.

"Harry, sorry," Hermione said quietly. "But can we… can we call it a night? We've done a lot anyway."

Harry nodded gracefully and said goodbye to her as she left the office with Draco.

They strode the corridors quickly, heading directly for their dorms. Draco spoke as they hurried.

"I drank some," he stated simply. Hermione smiled. That morning when she left the potion in his room, she knew that he was going to drink it at some point.

"And?" she pushed.

"And it _definitely_ works," he answered. "I saw so many things Hermione. I saw my mum," he paused and Hermione could have sworn that she heard a slight break in his voice. "I saw my mother," he repeated. "I saw her come into my bedroom in the middle of the night and put the _Imperius_ curse on me. I remembered the way she took me to a secret hideaway and shaved my head. She turned to me before she left and removed the curse, and like that she was gone."

He continued to explain as they entered the common room and Hermione sat down on the sofa. Draco sat cross-legged at her feet and spoke with his head in his hands.

"I spent the year there, Hermione," he told her with confidence. "I know for sure, that's where I was last year."

"But then who do you think was here?" she asked, speaking for the first time in well over a half hour. She couldn't believe all of this. That they actually found something that worked, and that Draco was right about it all.

"I don't know, Granger!" he shot rather viciously. "Sorry," he muttered a few seconds later.

"It's okay, but really, we've got to figure this out," she said quickly.

"I don't know, I think I need to let all of this sink in first," he said, and Hermione saw for the first time how tired he looked. Not physically, but mentally. He looked so drained.

"Good idea," she agreed, and they both stood to go to sleep. It had been a long night. They walked up the stairs to the hallway where they would part, but Draco stopped her by putting a hand on her shoulder. _A very heavy hand_, she noted. She spun around quickly and noticed with a shock that he wasn't just stopping her from moving. He was stopping himself from falling over. His long fingers and hands shook and he looked into her eyes with some sort of searching. He looked like he might pass out, but he saved himself by leaning up against the wall. Hermione put her hands on his strong shoulders and looked at his face, which was quickly regaining color.

"Sorry," he said after almost five minutes of silence. "I feel fine now. I thought I was going to.. I don't know."

Hermione felt a strange sensation that resembled relief and smiled up at him. "No problem," she said in a whisper. "You sure you're okay now?"

"I'm fine," he answered and showed her so by stepping away from the wall and standing steadily. She noticed just then how distinguished his posture was, the way he stood with his shoulders back and his neck holding his head proudly. She felt another strange sensation, this one more like admiration. He made eye contact with her and in the candlelight of the hallway his normally ice-gray eyes looked somehow warmer. She held the gaze without embarrassment this time, and he opened his mouth to speak once or twice but always closed it again.

"Draco…" she said as she exhaled and realized suddenly how little she'd been breathing. She placed a hand on his side lightly and he matched it by wrapping his arms around her into another embrace.

He could feel his heart pounding in every fingertip, he could feel the pulse of his blood through his veins. He was painfully aware of his tongue all of the sudden, which seemed to be swollen because he could never remember it being this big. He could feel her heartbeat, too. He counted the thumps to try to calm himself, but somehow it was having the opposite effect. He could smell her hair and see the texture of her skin on her cheek. His stomach had tightened and his lungs must have been shrinking to not allow enough air in. He was breathing so fast, his heart was beating so fast.

Draco looked into Hermione's eyes to ask her… something. He wasn't quite sure what, but it was something important because he searched for the answer endlessly.

"Hermione – "

She pressed her finger against his lips to stop him. She didn't want words just now. He smelled like warmth, and she wanted to take in the heat that was coming from his body. She stepped backwards so that her back was against the wall and he was pressed against her. Her arms around his back tightened, and his grip followed suit. Her pulse was faster by the second and she bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Draco's chest was pressed against hers, and every time she breathed in, her body expanded to press even closer to him. She shut her eyes and tipped her head back against the cold wall.

Draco couldn't help himself any longer. He moved in slowly and pressed his lips against her smooth neck. He pressed them hard, and she rolled her head to the side. He moved downwards to her collarbone and played his tongue against it, reveling in her quiet moans. She could feel her eyes roll to the back of her head with pleasure. She didn't remember anything feeling that good, ever. He moved up again and went from her jaw slowly until he finally reached her lips, and just in time because she felt as if she might have imploded if he'd waited another second.

With all of the passion in him, he kissed her then. He kissed her forcefully, softly, and hungrily all at the same time. Their lips brushed together and created a tingle through each of their bodies. She would moan quietly every now and then into his mouth and make him insane with want.

He was greedy for her, he didn't want to stop this ever. He didn't want his lips to ever be parted from his. It was getting hotter in the hallway, and their skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat – the sexual kind, the kind you get from pleasure. He suddenly had the urge to press his skin bare against hers, and moved his hands under her shirt onto her back. He pulled it up further and felt more of her skin, and he lost his fear.

He pulled his shirt off quickly, only breaking contact with her for a second, and came back to her more passionately than before. He placed his hands on either side of her waist and moved them up, her sweater coming with them. His little fingers could feel her naked ribs and his thumbs were just beginning to brush against –

Hermione placed her hands on his and pulled them off of her softly. He understood right away and put them on his face instead, his eyes closed from misery and ecstasy at the same time. He moved his body so that it was not in contact with hers any longer.

"Draco… we can't," was all she said. She turned silently and walked the few feet to her bedroom and disappeared behind the doors.

_Please remember to leave a review! Thank you to all you guys who are loyal readers, I really love hearing what you think!_

_And of course, thanks to HPlove443 for her wonderfulness. You guys should all read her stories, she's amazing. Thanks, Big Joe 3_


	9. Plans

Chapter Eleven:

**Chapter Nine: Plans**

Hermione sat in her room fully awake in the small hours of the night. She always was one for over thinking, but this was bordering on ridiculous. She needed to sleep before tomorrow, at least a little.

Yet, the scenes kept replaying in her head, and something told her that if she slept it would only be filled with dreams like the ones she was already having while she was awake.

She shut her eyes and let the events of the night come back to her once again, and she couldn't help but smile. Despite herself, she had to admit that it was the best kiss she'd ever had. Of course, that was only out of the few she'd shared with Viktor, but still. It was good.

_What does all this mean? What does this make us now? _She stopped right there, for fear that if she dwelled on the subject further she might just have to ask him, and that was awkwardness that she definitely did not want right now.

For the first time since the battle in the hallway, Hermione thought she might faint. She hadn't expected this to happen in a billion years. After last year, she thought for sure she would be with Ron, but then… nothing happened. He didn't make a move, she didn't make a move, he started getting all huffy all the time, and she was fed up with his childish attitude. She had lost interest somewhere along the way.

_And anyways,_ she admitted._ I never got this way about Ron._

She could almost literally feel the butterflies in her stomach, and there was this giddiness that swept over her whenever she thought about Draco. She hadn't considered it before, but now that this kiss had happened, she was sure of it. She definitely felt something for Draco. Something strong.

She looked over at the clock on her dresser and saw that the time was 3:17. For absolutely no reason, she decided to go to Draco.

_Just to see if he's awake, too,_ she justified. She would have never admitted that she wanted to kiss him again like she had before. She would have never admitted that she regretted stopping him more than she regretted anything else in her life.

With her bare feet sweeping across the thick carpeting, she made her way to the door of Draco's room. She pressed her ear to it and could have sworn she heard something inside.

"Well, here it goes," she whispered as she knocked on the door twice.

Nothing.

_Oh, Merlin this was a terrible idea._

She knocked again, a little louder this time.

Nothing.

She turned to leave but before she started walking away, the door swung open.

"Draco," she said in surprise.

"Hermione… what is it?" he asked almost hopefully as he looked into her honey eyes. She held his gaze for a few seconds before he came to her and wrapped his arms around her tightly. His fingers guided her chin up to where his mouth could meet his, and she breathed a sigh of contentment as he kissed her again. She felt so right here, in this embrace with the long-time enemy. She felt so perfect, just like this –

Then, much to Hermione's dislike, Draco pulled away.

"I'm sorry," he breathed quickly. "I didn't mean to – "

"Don't be sorry, Draco," she told him as her chest heaved.

"You…? Don't be…? Why not?" he questioned her.

"I wanted to," she said as she bit her lip. This was too much. He looked so soft in the candlelight, his whole body was calling for her. She didn't wait for him to respond.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into another kiss, and he stumbled back from surprise, placing him up against the wall as she had been before. His long fingers cradled her head and pulled her closer to him. Hermione moved her arms so that they were around his torso, so that one of her hands was on the large expanse of muscle on his back and the other rested on his hip. She felt like she needed to get closer, somehow, but it wasn't humanly possible. They were pressed as close as could be, and the only way to get closer would be to put one inside the other. Hermione realized the lack of innocence in her thoughts and felt a slow blush rising.

_Is it bad for me to think this way?_ She asked herself, and just as she did Draco answered for her by showing her that he was thinking the same way. He lifted her body up and, without braking the kiss, carried her to his bed, where he fell backwards, placing her on top of him.

Hermione blushed deeper in this position – one that was completely foreign to her, yet felt so right. She wrapped her legs around his stomach and arched her back to kiss him, his hands on her hips pulling her to him. He slid her down the few inches before she felt with a gasp the definite proof that he wanted her. She pulled her mouth from his and looked down questioningly at his face. He breathed deeply and shut his eyes slowly and opened them again. He licked his lips a little and then seemed to come to his senses as he nodded his head slightly.

"Okay," he said hoarsely. "I get it." He rolled her off of him and they both laid there for a while, side by side, breathing fast and shaking a little.

"Sorry," she said to him a few minutes later. "I didn't mean to – "

"No," he interrupted. "There's nothing wrong with having morals."

She was surprised to hear that out of his mouth, but brushed off the irony in the statement. Draco turned on his side to face her and kissed her softly on the jaw bone. He wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace and Hermione thought fleetingly that this was the only chance she'd get to sleep that night, so she did.

The next couple of hours proved to be some of the most comfortable sleep she'd ever had, laying there in the arms of Draco Malfoy, the last person she'd have ever thought to be with.

The sun shone through the high windows the next morning, and Draco woke without opening his eyes. His grip on the one next to him tightened, and he realized with momentary shock that it was Hermione. All of the events of the previous night fell down on him, and he held her even tighter. He breathed in the scent of her mass of hair and opened his eyes slowly. He saw that she was still asleep, and he kissed her lightly on her bottom lip before rising carefully to go get ready for the day. His body gave way to a chill that shook him violently as he realized how very cold it was this morning.

He walked with a peaceful slowness out of his bathroom ten minutes later to see, with a pang of sadness, his bed empty. He went to search for her in her room, but she wasn't there either.

_Great,_ he mused. _Just great._

He made his way to his morning classes in a somewhat grumpy mood.

Hermione had awoken only a few minutes after Draco had. She recovered quickly from the shock of being in someone else's room as she soaked up the memories of the night before. She couldn't wipe the smile off her face as she got ready and headed down for some quick breakfast.

Needless to say, the boys were very curious about her demeanor. She figured, however, that it would be a better idea to keep this one thing from them, just for now. Ron was still calling Draco "that Ferret" most of the time, and Harry – well, everyone knew how Harry felt about Malfoys in general.

Hermione was surprised, in fact, to feel this way about a Malfoy herself. She would have never anticipated – but then, that's how life is sometimes, isn't it?

Despite her friends' annoyance at her overly-cheerfulness, Hermione thought that nothing could go wrong on this day.

Nothing, that is, other than the clash that evening.

Harry and Hermione were just going off when Ron stopped them.

"You know, you two sure are spending a lot of time studying for NEWTs. I wouldn't want to miss out on all of that knowledge," he said skeptically. "I might just tag along with you both tonight. Unless," he added due to Harry's contorted face. "You two have something to do _without_ me there?" His voice was filled to the brim with jealousy and they both knew that he was expecting the worst.

"Ron," Hermione said quickly. "It's nothing like that – "

"Let me," Harry interrupted and turned to Ron. "Listen, mate, I'm really sorry about this, but… okay, don't be furious?"

Ron stared at Harry with his mouth hanging open, obviously convinced of his previous judgments.

"Okay, here it goes," Harry said without waiting for Ron's vocal response. "I've been training – you know, for battling Voldemort. Hermione's been helping."

"WHAT?" Ron burst at both of them incredulously. "You went behind my back? You've been doing this all this time? Without me? Harry, you lied to me! You've both been leaving me in the dust while you get all the fun – "

"Wait a second Ron," Hermione broke in. "Isn't that exactly what you proposed you and Harry should do to me?"

Ron was silent and his face was beat red with anger and embarrassment.

"Ron, I never meant it to go this far without letting you know," Harry apologized. "I was just scared you'd hate me for it…"

Ron took several deep breaths and emerged much calmer than before.

"No, Harry, I don't hate you. You're my best mate," he chuckled a little before going on. "I thought you were stealing my girl."

Hermione shot a shocked look at him and he apparently realized his words as the redness crept back into his face and ears. He didn't, however, say anything to dispute his previous comment, so the three stood in unbearably awkward silence for almost a whole minute before Harry said, "Right, good, let's go then."

"Yeah, let's. I want to know what all's been going on," Ron agreed.

Hermione followed behind, a sense of dread and guilt rising on her every step she took.

_Oh God, what've I done?_ She scolded herself as she gazed at her two best friends walking jauntily in front of her.

"Today is the 8th," Harry was saying. "That means we've got one week to train and get to Godric's Hollow. That means we'll have to spend… about three hours every night training physically and – Hermione."

She jerked her head up to face him, drawn out of her thoughts with a shock. "Yes?" she responded innocently.

"You're not paying attention, are you?" Ron said before Harry could open his mouth.

"No, I am!" said Hermione indignantly, even though he was in fact completely correct. After Ron's comment before, she was having a hard time concentrating because she kept imagining what would happen if the two of them found out about what had happened with Draco.

The pair was satisfied with her answer, though, so they went on. The plan was made official: they would go to Godric's Hollow. Harry would leave in the morning, and they would meet up with him at different points during the day. The day that their winter break started, that is, December 15th to be exact.

After they discussed numerous ideas and techniques, they parted and headed for their own dorms. Hermione hadn't seen Draco all day, and the ecstasy of the night before was wearing off and leaving her with a hollow, panicked feeling. She wasn't sure exactly what had happened, or if it was real. She couldn't figure out how Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince, was so…

Soft. He was so gentle. Hermione was skeptical, she didn't see how that kind of transformation could happen. He wasn't the type to hold a girl as she fell asleep in his arms… he wasn't like that at all.

Or was he? He had been so sincere. There was no way he could have been faking, was there?

Doubts swirled around Hermione's brain as she entered the Head's common. She had to admit that she was disappointed to find the room empty, she had hoped to see Draco. But then, the noises coming from upstairs told her that he wasn't far away.

As Hermione stepped lightly up the stairs to his room, the noises became clearer. He was talking… he sounded worried.

She pressed her ear to the door to hear better, but it was too muffled, she couldn't make out the words. And she could only hear Draco, there didn't seem to be anyone else talking. She tapped on the door lightly, and then again harder when there was no response.

_Oh God, what do I do? What if he's being attacked? What if –_

"NO!" he interrupted her thoughts as he yelled clearly into the silence.

"No what?" she asked, hoping that he would tell her that he was okay. "Draco, what's going on?"

There was a pause and then she could hear him squirming around in his bed. The creaks of the wood were eerie, and his groans of pain made her worry more.

"No, _Please_, NO!" he yelled again. "Don't, please, you can't!"

Hermione was just about to open the door when she heard him cry, much louder than before, "MOM DON'T!"

Hermione gasped and listened for a hint that she shouldn't come in and stop whatever was happening, and when there was silence for a couple milliseconds, it was enough to drive her crazy. She burst through the door with her wand in her hand, ready for whatever Draco's mum could possibly be doing to him.

"_Expelliarmus!_" she shouted as she entered the room, but was surprised to find it completely devoid of any mothers at all. The only one in the room was a sweaty Draco, curled in his sheets in a painful position.

_I should have known,_ she felt like such an idiot. _That was so stupid of me…How could Mrs. Malfoy even get in here, anyway?_

Shaking her head in relief and embarrassment, she went over to the sleeping form, which was twitching and writhing like a worm. Hermione put her hand on his forehead and brushed off the beads of sweat with a scared sort of disgust.

"Draco?" she whispered, but realized that he probably would not wake up to that. "Draco? Wake up, Draco, you're dreaming! You're dreaming, Draco. It's just a dream…"

His head throbbed even harder with confusion as his mother opened her mouth and uttered a voice of someone else.

"It's just a dream, Draco. Draco, wake up now please."

"What? Mum, what are you doing? Why are you taking me?" he half-yelled and half-cried. He was so terrified. His mother had put the Imperius Curse on him and he could only remember small bits of the last hour. Now he was tied up in an olive-green chair, and the bright orange and yellow walls surrounding him made his head swim.

"Why am I here? Mum, no, please, don't leave me here…don't leave me…" he began to plead as tears of abandonment rolled down his face. How could she be doing this to him?

"Draco, I'm not leaving you. Please, Draco, just wake up. Please, Draco, please," she said as tears rolled down her own face. She was backing up towards the wall behind her, and a red door materialized out of nowhere. "It's a dream, Draco, wake up."

"Mum, I am awake! I'm sitting right here… just don't… no… don't go…" he pleaded more as she opened the door and stepped backwards.

His mother's real voice came back now as she said coldly, "It's for you, son. I'm doing this for you."

The door shut behind her and immediately he could feel himself shaking. Or was he shaking? He was being shaken. Someone was shaking him.

_What the bloody hell?_

"Draco, please…" the voice begged him.

"Are you shaking me? What is going on?" his head continued to pound like a jackhammer.

"Wake up, Draco, it's me, Hermione," said the voice.

She faded into his vision as the yellow and orange walls faded out. He could see the red shining face of Hermione Granger, and she was shaking him. Her cheeks were drenched in fearful tears, and her hair was messier than ever. She looked so scared.

All at once, a deep anger filled him, and he wasn't sure where it came from.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"What? Draco! You're awake? Are you awake?"

"Yes I'm bloody awake, and you're in my room!"

"Yes, I came to – what? What do you mean?"

"Get out!" he yelled violently. "Get the fucking hell out of my room!"

Her eyes widened with surprise and her tears began to fall again as she ran out of his room. His eyes stayed glued on the door long after she shut it behind her, and he shook as he remembered the memories that had just come back to him.

Hermione stood in the hallway pressed up against the wall and cried until she was too weak to stand anymore. Then she let herself slide to the floor and curl up, continuing to weep.

_Why? Why was he so angry with me? What did I do?_ She asked herself over and over as she shivered there on the cold floor.

It wasn't long before she fell asleep with her wet face pressed on her soaked sleeve. She woke the next morning, very early morning, and realized that she needed to go to her room. Later, when she woke for good, her back ached as she pulled herself out of bed. She went to her classes and tried as best she could to not look at Malfoy the whole day.


	10. Capture

Chapter Ten:

**Chapter Ten: Capture**

"Be careful Harry," Hermione said through her tears as her friend wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"I will, Hermione," Harry tried not to let his fear show. "And don't cry, you'll be seeing me later today," he told her, slightly hypocritically because of the tears filling his eyes.

Hermione smiled a little and wiped the wetness from her cheek. Ron placed his arm around her and said, "Good luck, Harry. We'll see you really soon." His own eyes were beginning to fill, and Harry said few last parting words before he let a couple tears slip down his face.

He hugged Hermione tightly with his strong arms and let her sob on his shoulder for a few minutes after Harry had gone through the green flame of Madam Rosmerta's fireplace to the fireplace in the Dursley's home. "It's okay, Hermione, it's going to be okay."

_Please God let it be okay,_ Hermione prayed.

The next few hours would be filled with preparations while Harry was protecting Godric's Hollow. He would take a Muggle subway to London from Little Whinging, then fly to Godric's Hollow. He was placing spells on houses of Muggles so that no noise or destruction would be able to reach them. They would all be charmed to stay inside, and as it was the middle of the night currently, the three were hoping that no one was going to be coming home any time during the day. After Harry was finished protecting the town, the trio would meet up.

Hermione would go first, at noon, and meet Harry on a street corner. They would go together to the house he'd lived in as a child, and then make it known to the Death Eaters where they were. They were going to send a sign into the sky, like the Dark Mark, only this one was going to be a fire bolt, the shape of Harry's scar. They would know for sure what that meant.

After two hours, Ron would come and see the situation, then get the necessary backup from the Order. He was going to be sure to not be seen by the Death Eaters, so he was going to take Harry's Invisibility Cloak. He'd been practicing Apparation illegally since the week before (they'd gotten used Malfoy's secret path to Hogsmeade to get him to a place where he could practice, and Hermione was glad that one good thing had come from the experience).

_Ugh, no, don't start now, Hermione,_ she warned herself when thoughts started to slip to him. _There's too much at stake now, you can't be distracted._

Hermione hadn't spoken one word to Draco since the night he exploded at her. He had approached her once, but when he got to be about twenty feet away, his brows furrowed and he turned on his heel and walked away. That had confused Hermione, but it also made her smile. He was trying to apologize.

_But he hasn't yet_, she reminded herself. _So you're not going to get weak and go talk to him._

"Hermione, what are you thinking about?" Ron asked her as they walked to the Gryffindor common room.

"I – I'm just thinking about today," she lied. And she knew he knew she was lying, too. But she didn't really care anymore. She lied to them all the time, whenever they asked about her thoughts or (especially) when they asked on occasion how Malfoy was treating her as Head Girl. She was beginning to block out the guilt she felt from it, because she knew that she'd rather lie to them then tell them the truth about what had happened.

_And what I want to happen,_ she added as she sank dejectedly into a mushy armchair. The next few hours went as planned, and it was nearing the time when Hermione would have to leave. She grabbed several vials of the energy potion they'd brewed in her bedroom (they were going to need it, because who knew how long this would go on for?), and headed to the hall where Ron was waiting for her.

"Hermione, please be careful," he said as he hugged her goodbye. "For me?"

She looked into his eyes and saw that he really meant it. All of the guilt she should have been feeling all this time sprung on her, and her eyes filled up with tears once more.

"I'll try," she croaked.

"Hermione," Ron stopped her before she could turn to leave. "I – "

Before he finished his sentence, he brought his lips down on hers and kissed her with so much passion that she never knew he had. She felt the wetness on his cheeks and knew that he was crying. For her. She kissed him back, and she wasn't sure why. He kissed her so hungrily, so desperately. His arms held her so tightly, and she felt safe.

She moved her hands up and ran them through his hair. It was coarse and wavy, not at all like Draco's smooth liquid mane. Hermione pulled away from Ron slowly, feeling even guiltier.

"I love you Hermione," he said as she hugged her one more time.

She didn't respond to his profession. She didn't respond to his hug, either. She just stood there crying, wondering if she'd come out of all this alive, and what she would do afterwards.

She floo-ed to her own home, which had been hooked up to the floo network. Her mother was surprised to see her, but hugged her tightly and smoothed her hair as Hermione told her what was happening. She was saying goodbye, just in case she never saw her parents again. She didn't see her dad. He was at work.

Hermione tried to dry her face as she walked out the door, and when she was up in the air she found that the wind made it hard for her to cry anyway. She was terrified of flying, but then, she was terrified of everything that she would be doing today, so the fear was dulled. She flew fast, because she was meeting Harry very soon. Using the map that Harry had shown her and she'd memorized, she knew that she was getting close. She plummeted down and flew low, knowing that no one here would see her because of Harry's spells. She found the corner where he was supposed to be waiting, but she didn't see him. She stepped off her broom and looked all around the deserted streets, and through the heavy fog she couldn't see anything.

She waited for him there, but she knew right away. Something wasn't right.

The ropes rubbed and cut at his flesh, and the gag was making it hard for him to breathe. They didn't even have to use it, because they put the Silencing Charm on him, but he was sure they did it just to make him miserable. They had also covered his eyes, so he could only hear what was happening around him.

It had worked, he was miserable. Everything in the early morning had gone as planned, but then the worst had happened.

Harry waited at the corner for Hermione and his heart beat fast when he saw a figure emerging out of the fog. But it wasn't her, it was a large figure of a hooded man. A Death Eater. He reached for his wand but was too late. The Death Eater put a Full-Body Bind on him, and he crashed to the ground like a falling statue. The man said nothing, but pulled out a whistle from somewhere it his robes. He blew it, and more appeared. They gathered around and picked Harry up, one of them closed his eyelids so that he couldn't see anything. He felt the freezing wind on his face and knew that they were flying.

Now, he laid on the ground in a cold, hard room. They had tied him up with the Incarcerous Curse, and taken off the bind. He could move now, but only enough to He heard rats squeaking and knew that he was in a dungeon of some sort.

_How did they know?_ He asked himself angrily. _I didn't tell __**anyone**__ other than Ron and Hermione. Did one of them tell someone? How did Voldemort know I was going to be there, then, at that time on that day… How?_

He asked himself the same questions over and over, and that combined with the unsatisfied itch on his neck made him sure that he would go insane.

Then, he heard footsteps.

"Who's there," he said. Or rather, tried to, but nothing came out. He rolled and tried to sit up and get his blindfold off.

"Look at the Boy-Who-Lived, wriggling around like a worm," said a familiar voice.

_Snape._

"I'll bet you've got so many questions now, don't you?" he mocked. "Why don't you have a go? Oh, that's right, you can't say anything at all."

_Bloody bastard,_ Harry insulted silently.

"I'll answer some of them anyways. Here, let's pretend you've asked me – "he raised the pitch of his voice to a squeak " – 'how did you know I was going to be there?'" he lowered his voice again. "Well, Potter, you've got to realize one thing: the Dark Lord knows everything. We've known for months that you were planning to go to Godric's Hollow today. In fact, we knew it before you did. Don't ask me how," he added. "That's a secret that you will never know."

He paused and Harry heard him come through a steel door that creaked as he opened and closed it behind him. He walked in a circle around the cell and stopped next to Harry.

"Potter, I'm going to do you a favor," he said, and Harry was sure that whatever he was about to do was absolutely nothing like a favor. "I'm going to take off your blindfold and gag."

That instant, Harry's vision was opened to the dark cell that he'd been sitting in. It was small and surrounded by closely placed steel bars. Harry was in the middle.

"You're a bastard," Harry said, and was surprised that noise actually came from his mouth.

"Now now, is that how you thank me?" Snape said calmly as he picked Harry up off the ground and began untying him.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked with unbelief. Was Snape actually freeing him?

"I'm not letting you go, Potter, so don't get all excited," he answered, and Harry remembered his powerful Legilimens abilities. He started Occlumency just then, and Snape noticed.

"Ahh, I see you've found a teacher better than I am?"

"Most of them are," Harry retorted, and enjoyed seeing the surprise on Snape's face.

"Come with me, Potter," he said finally, obviously annoyed that he was unable to get through Harry's block.

Harry's hands were still tied tightly, behind his back now instead of at his sides. He followed Snape's quick strides until they reached a heavy wooden door, and Snape opened it.

"Careful, Potter. You wouldn't want to be making any stupid decisions, now that you're face to face with the Dark Lord."

Harry looked up and saw, indeed, that Voldemort was standing before him, a sinister smile on his serpent face.

Draco stood at the door to Hermione's dormitory and waited for a response to his knocking.

_Surely she heard me,_ he reasoned. _Why won't she answer?_

After a few more knocks he decided to let himself in. He was **going** to talk to her today. He had to. The past week had been hell for him, and he needed to explain himself to her. He knew that she didn't deserve what he did that night, and he was even planning on apologizing, which was a big deal. He never apologized for anything. None of the Malfoys did.

_But then, none of us do very many things that we should, and one too many of us have made the habit of kidnapping their own children, _he thought bitterly.

He still couldn't say what it was that made him so angry that night. He thought it might have been pent-up anger at his mother for what she did the previous year. But whatever it was, he was sorry it had happened.

And he'd been trying to apologize, but that sort of thing is much easier said than done. It took him all week to work up the courage to talk to her, and now that he was ready, she was refusing to let him in?

Well, he would take care of that.

He opened the door and said through the crack, "Hermione, I'm coming in now," before stepping all the way through the threshold. When he saw the empty room, he was about to turn and look for her elsewhere, but then something stopped him.

There was a large cauldron in the middle of the room, and the fire under it was still lit.

_What's this?_ He thought as he walked over to the boiling concoction. It bubbled and sparked in bright orange, a find of juicy-looking potion that he was sure he'd seen before. He scooped the ladle out of the pot and smelled it. Immediately, his hair stood up and his heart beat faster. He recognized the effects immediately. After all, how many times had he brewed an energy potion to keep him awake after a night of… well, anyways, there had been a few times when he'd used it himself.

_But never on a weekend,_ he thought, intrigued. _And never over Winter Break, either. What's going on, Hermione?_

He went to look for her then, and tried the Great Hall first. Then he tried to search for her in the library, and was extremely surprised not to find her there.

He did, however, find someone else.

"Weasel," Draco greeted him with the nod of a head as he sat down in a chair at his table.

"What is it Malfoy? I'm a bit busy just now," he said, but in a surprisingly cheerful tone.

_What's he so happy about?_ Malfoy wondered fleetingly before answering, "I'm looking for Herm – Granger."

"Hermione's… well, she's not here," Ron said vaguely.

"Where's she gone, then?" Draco asked, slightly perturbed at his imprecise answer.

"I told you, she's not _here_," Ron repeated.

"Yes, I know Weasley. I'm not asking where she _isn't_, I'm asking where she _is_."

"She's.. gone. She left," Ron answered.

"Okay, Weasley. Here's the thing. You're going to tell me where she is exactly or I'll have to hurt you very badly," Draco threatened as he put an extremely tightly-gripped hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Let go of me Malfoy," Ron pushed his hand off. "I can't tell you where she's gone."

"What? Why not? Did she tell you not to tell me where she went?"

"No, it's just… Wait, why do you want to talk to her so badly anyways?"

Draco felt his face warm and he scanned his brain for answers. "I need to talk to her about Head Duties," he finally said, but Ron had already seen the hesitation.

"Look, I don't have to tell you where she went if you don't have to tell me why you want to know," Ron said haughtily. "And I have to go. I'm meeting up with her right now."

"Take me with you," Draco suggested impulsively.

"No, Malfoy," Ron said in a tone that suggested his annoyance with Draco's persistency.

It was exactly two o'clock when Ron reached the house in Godric's Hollow. Immediately he sensed that something was wrong, partly because of the empty sky.

_That mean's they never even made it here,_ he realized as he stepped through the door to see a confirmation.

Without searching the rest of the house, he left and walked down to the corner where he knew Harry and Hermione were supposed to meet.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed as she ran to him. "I don't know what's happened! Harry never met me here!"

"Why didn't you come back?"

"I – I wanted to wait and see if he'd come," she answered.

"Okay, well we need to get back to Hogwarts and figure out just where he's gone," Ron said as he hopped on the broomstick. "Come on, you ride behind me."

Hermione placed herself hesitantly behind him on the broom and, despite the bad feeling in her stomach for it, placed her arms tightly around his middle.

They made it back to Hogwarts the same way Hermione had gone, and went directly to McGonagall. After a lengthy lecture on the dangers of doing something like this without notifying the Order, she began pacing the room.

"I'm going to alert the Order of his disappearance," she said finally.

"Oh great," Hermione heard Ron moan under his breath. "Mum'll love this."

"Miss Granger, I am very disappointed in your actions to say the least. You're Head Girl, the moral leader and role model for the whole female population of this school. I trust that you will make better decisions from now forward," Professor McGonagall said in her classic tone of voice. Hermione averted her eyes because she knew that the headmistress was right.

The information that Hermione and Ron gave to McGonagall was made known to the Order immediately, and search parties of Aurors were sent out all over England. Ron had been correct about his mother's reaction. Hermione quite thought that he was lucky, though, to get off without another Howler.

The two of them were forced to stay inside the school, and although they knew of easy ways to get outside, they obeyed the rules. Neither of them wanted to be in any more trouble than they already were, and they both trusted that the Order would use all of its might to find Harry. After all, he was the "Boy-Who-Lived", and most everyone wanted to keep it that way.

Hermione made her way to her dormitory after the long day, and was through the portrait door when she remembered Draco. And that was for the reason that he was standing right in front of her. Stark naked.


	11. The Good News

Chapter Eleven: Unexpected Choice

**Chapter Eleven: The Good News**

"What are you doing!?"

"I'm – I," Draco fumbled with couch cushions to cover himself as he tried to explain the situation. His normally cool and collected demeanor was disheveled, and his usually alabaster face was redder than Hermione had ever seen it. He stood there in front of her, clutching a large pillow and trying to balance as Hermione noticed his reflection in the window. She could see him whole naked bottom, and she blushed a little and tried to restrain her smile.

"Do you usually prance around the common room in the nude while I'm gone?" Hermione asked, containing her laughter to the best of her ability.

"I wasn't _prancing_," Draco rolled his eyes. "I was just – oh, never mind. Can you just go to your room and forget this ever happened?"

"Well, I could…" Hermione teased in a playful tone. She was feeling better now because of this whole situation. "But if I heard the story correctly, when you saw me naked you got to carry me all the way to my bed before you could forget it ever happened," she enjoyed seeing his eyes flutter with shock, as they had never discussed the event before. "That is, if you've forgotten at all." She could see by the look in his eyes and the way they traveled over her body quickly that he hadn't forgotten.

"Do you want an explanation, then? Okay, here it is. I was going to shower, but noticed that I was out of soap. I was going to the cupboard to get more," he said this all very quickly.

Hermione giggled a little before saying, "Good enough for me. See you later – but next time, maybe I won't see so _much_ of you."

She let her hips sway freely as she walked up the stairs because she knew that he was watching her. She knew what she was doing to him.

Draco took a very cold shower after that. And once he got out of the water, he felt more composed. He felt like he could maybe go talk to her now.

_Maybe_.

He dried quickly and dressed in comfortable slacks and a maroon sweater. He knew that this was his best look, and he wanted her to know it, too. He left his hair slightly wet. He didn't feel like wasting any more time.

"Hermione," he called from outside her door. "Can I come in?"

"Umm, yeah, one second," he heard her moving around and then the door opened. His look was immediately outweighed when he saw her in a silk robe and wet hair hanging loosely all around her. She had apparently showered too, but it didn't seem as if he'd given her the time to dress properly.

"What is it?" she asked a few seconds later, when he made it obvious that he was not going to speak first by staring blankly at her. He rolled up his sleeves. It was starting to get unbearably hot for him.

"I – can I come in?" he responded, and followed her into the room and sat next to her on her bed. "Sorry," he blurted as he let out a breath.

"Sorry?"

"Yes, for last week when I yelled at you. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry that it's been so long coming."

"It's... well, I suppose I forgive you, but… can you tell me one thing?"

"You want to know why it happened?" he guessed before she had the chance to ask. She nodded her head yes. "I don't know, Hermione. I don't know what happened to me just then. I can't say why I got so angry…"

"It just happened?"

"Yes, well, it certainly wasn't anything to do with you," he said, and was surprised that she let out a long sigh of relief.

"Good. I didn't want it to be." It was silent for a few seconds and Draco turned to Hermione and moved a strand of hair out of her eyes, letting a bead of water run down his arm.

"Hermione, where were you today?" he asked after a long silence.

"I was… I can't really tell you, Draco," she answered honestly, but unsatisfactorily.

"That's what Weasel said, too. Why not?"

"It's… private."

Draco sighed with the frustrating realization that he was not going to get any real answers out of her, and then it was silent again. He glanced over at her and was astonished to see a tear roll down her face, accompanied quickly by many more tears.

"Good God, Hermione, what is it?" he asked, confused at this sudden emotion.

"It's – It's," she sniffed through her tears. "I'm just so worried – We've made a huge mistake."

"What in Merlin's beard do you mean?"

"It's – It's Harry," she sobbed. The mention of Potter quickly gave Draco an intense jealous feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he resisted the urge to express it. "He's been captured."

"Captured?" Draco weighed his options in his mind. _A) Console her, she's sad and vulnerable. There's a situation to be taken advantage of here. You're a bloody bastard, Draco. B) Rejoice with joy. Harry Potter, at last gone from my life. You're still a bloody bastard. C) Find Potty. Make Hermione happy. You've actually got a chance with that one._

He wrapped her up in his arms and smelled the honey in her hair. She was sobbing still, but he cradled her like a baby in his arms until she quieted.

"I'll find him, Hermione. I'll find him for you," he promised as he kissed her forehead and she brought her face to meet his.

The reunion of their lips was like that of long lost lovers. The slow movements of their tongues and the soft rub of their lips together made Draco shutter with ecstasy. He pressed her small body as close to his as he could get it. He didn't ever want to let go of her. One hand was holding her back, and his fingers felt the smooth silk of her bathrobe. The other was tangling itself in her hair, the individual tendrils wrapping around his fingers and soaking his skin with cool drops of water.

He felt her breathing quicken, and he could taste the lust on her lips. He wanted her, and he was sure she wanted him back. He let his hand travel from her back to the sash tied at her waist, and he untied it quickly. She moaned quietly with pleasure as he laid her on her back and opened her robe to him. His hand moved softly from her waist to her chest and she moaned again, a little louder this time. Each noise sent a chill down his spine as he kissed her harder and with more passion. He lowered himself onto her and could feel the warmth radiating from their bodies pressed against each other.

"Hermione!?" Draco heard from the doorway of the room, and pulled himself quickly away from her. She covered herself quickly with her robe and sat up, a look of shock on her face, which was still stained with the tears she'd been crying only minutes before.

"What the fuck is going on here?" the redhead demanded from Draco.

"Ron, don't, it's not…" Hermione defended rather weakly. Draco could see her shaking.

"Don't you start with me, you bloody… seductress. That meant nothing to you, then? When I kissed you today and told you that I loved you?"

"No, Ron! It did mean something, just…"

"Just not anything other than the fact that you'd have to pretend to feel the same way?"

"Ron, stop it!" Hermione screamed at him, tears welling up in her eyes. Draco decided to not let this happen to her.

"Listen, Weasley, what Hermione does is her business, not yours. It's not her fault that you love her and she doesn't love you back," he stood menacingly close to Ron and looked him in the eyes. Ron, however, didn't back down like he had before.

"No, Malfoy, that's your fault, isn't it?"

"You're so full of shit, Weasley. You think you can just take all the time in the world and expect her to wait forever? You had your chance, now it's gone," he said, blocking Hermione from Ron's view.

"It wasn't gone until you took it!" Ron shouted.

"Ron, stop it!" Hermione repeated. "This isn't Draco's fault, things just happened…"

"Don't speak to me, Hermione," Ron said bitterly. He looked as though he would cry, but no tears spilled out of his eyes this time. "I loved you, Hermione… I love you."

He turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him as he stalked down the hall and out of the Heads' Dorms.

"Draco, maybe you should leave," Hermione said after Ron had gone.

"No, Hermione, don't," he said softly as he gathered her up in his arms and cradled her again. "I want to be with you, Granger. Even when no one else wants me to."

"You've failed, Narcissa," Snape ridiculed.

"Please, don't, Severus, _please_," she begged from her place on the ground. "Give me more time." Snape stood over her with his wand pointed right at her head, and she cowered away from it like an abused puppy.

"It's only what we agreed on," he soothed mockingly. "You were supposed to have gotten him back by now. By the 15th, remember? It's what we agreed on," he paused and clicked his tongue at the tears rolling down her face. "Don't weep, Narcissa, this is a better fate than you'd have if I waited any longer. The Dark Lord will no doubt come to you soon, and his punishments are harsh to say the least when it comes to unfaithful – little – vermin – like – yourself," he told her, shooting curses at her with each of his last words. "Any thing you'd like to say?"

Before she got the chance to open her mouth, he shot an emerald green curse at her, and her body fell limp on the floor.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he said to the corpse as he walked briskly out of the study and into the domed hallway of the Malfoy Manor. He made his way to the room where all the Death Eaters waited, every last one of them, for the fate of their master.

Snape knew the Dark Lord would be successful. After all, how many people had he killed that were stronger than the Potter boy? But then again, Potter did have the habit of being unbearably lucky when it came to things like this.

"It's taking too long," McNair said to one of the others as Snape entered the room.

"It will take as long as it needs to," Snape told him harshly.

The room was dark now, as the sun had gone down hours ago and there was no artificial lighting in the large room. Harry was unsure exactly what this room was, it seemed almost like an attic, because it was cluttered with numerous objects. But then, how many attics had domed ceilings or full-length windows all along the wall?

Voldemort had engaged Harry in a sort of game, where they would sneak around the room and throw curses at each other. Harry had only hit him with one curse, and had been hit with many more than that. It seemed that Voldemort wanted to carry this on as long as possible, and whether to wear Harry down or to simply relish in the last time they would fight each other, it wasn't working. Harry felt more alive than he ever had, and Voldemort certainly was unhappy with how things were going.

Harry braced himself for the spell, because he knew it would take a lot out of him. He tried to keep his magic usage to a minimum, only protecting himself when need be. He was looking to get Voldemort into the middle of the room, where they could face each other like men.

Even if Voldemort wasn't, in fact, a man. His serpent eyes glowed in the dark room, and he moved like a spider. The one time that Harry hit him with a curse, the light illuminated his face and revealed a sick sort of smile, almost as if he enjoyed the pain of it.

Harry knew that the only reason he was still alive was because of the Occlumency. He knew that if Voldemort had been able to read his mind, he would have been able to kill him long ago. But now the night was deep and black, and Harry could see that things were coming to an end. He stepped into the center of the room, where cluttered objects ceased to crowd the floor, and there was enough space for two men to stand about ten feet from each other.

"Come get me," Harry yelled into the room.

"Giving up, Potter?" Voldemort hissed in his non-human voice. "But we're having so much fun!"

"This is it, Tom Riddle," Harry said as Voldemort stepped in front of him, tall and thin and cloaked in black billowing robes.

"_Avada_ – "

"_Amorcid!_" Harry screamed before Voldemort could finish the incantation. Immediately, Harry felt the power draining out of himself, and he fell to his knees on the floor. He looked up at Voldemort, who was contorted in the air, his body glowing bright red. He was screaming, Harry could see, but he couldn't head anything. Voldemort's hands stretched out in their huge expansion, and Harry saw him writhing in pain as he hung in the air. The light grew stronger until Harry couldn't see anything anymore. He closed his eyes to shield from the light, and noticed just then that there was a slight "pop". Harry thought it sounded quite like an Apparation. He wasn't sure why he hadn't been able to hear Voldemort, but he definitely could hear whoever it was who'd just come to the room.

"Potter?" yelled the person.

"I'm over here! Who are you?" Harry called back, thankful that the Order had come to witness the end.

"It's Draco," the voice yelled, and Harry's heart sank. What in Merlin's name was Malfoy doing here, and why was he able to find the place before the Order was?

Or did the Order send him?

Harry was too weak to think about it just now. He tried to follow the voice until his hand collided with Draco's forearm. Harry pulled his arm back quickly, but stopped moving around the room. The light was still bright, and Harry was beginning to hear Voldemort's screaming. He wondered fleetingly how long this was supposed to last, but just then the light died down and Voldemort's body fell thirty feet to the floor with a crash. As Harry gazed at the contorted figure on the floor, he felt a wave of relief sweep over him and he whispered to Draco, "It's over."

Draco's mind raced.

A half hour earlier, he'd left Hermione and told her that he would come back soon. He had two reasons for finding Harry, the first stronger than the second. Number one, he wanted to prove to Hermione that he would do anything for her. Second, he wanted to prove to the Order that he was really on their team. So, with these two reasons in his brain, he snuck swiftly to Hogsmeade, and then Apparated back to the place he'd never wanted to go again.

As he walked briskly down the halls of the Malfoy Manor, he dreaded with everything in him the memories that were coming to him in flashes. He tried to ignore the calls of his childhood past as he opened every door, searching for his mother.

And then he found her.

With a mix of relief and regret, he walked over to her lifeless form and knelt beside her. On her aristocratic face was frozen the look of pure dread that Draco recognized in pictures of people who had been killed with the killing curse. He didn't spend long with her, but he ran now through the halls of his old home, searching for the person who did this.

He found them, too. He could hear through the door the familiar voices of Death Eaters, and he decided against going in there. He knew where to go now.

He Apparated into the room that led to the dungeon, expecting Harry to be locked in there. But what he found was the lightness of the sun, and the weary yet victorious Boy-Who-Lived.

He stared down now at the lifeless form of the Dark Lord, the worst wizard who ever lived, and he knew that everything was going to be much different.

"Come on Potter, I'll Apparate us back to Hogsmeade," Draco said to Harry, who was staring without blinking at the body.

"No, I want to stay and make sure he's really dead," Harry responded. "Can you get the Order and bring them back here?"

Draco didn't respond, but Apparated immediately to the Burrow, and told everyone what had happened. Tears of joy fell as the word was spread that Voldemort was forever gone.


	12. Birthday

Chapter Twelve:

**Chapter Twelve: Birthday**

Draco tapped his thin fingertips on his knees as he waited for Hermione to return. It was January 21, his birthday, and she'd woken him up early to "start the festivities", as she had put it.

After giving him enough time to bathe and dress, she had pulled him behind her down to the Head's kitchen, where she'd prepared a fantastic feast of eggs and hash browns and every kind of breakfast meat you could think of. It was a cold morning, so she had still been bundled up in her sweats and wool socks, which he found to be somehow appealing, if not purely because of how interesting they were.

After they dined (Draco eating a whole lot more than Hermione did, for she kept putting down her fork to watch him enjoy the meal), Hermione had placed him firmly in the big green armchair and told him to stay put, and that she would be right back with a surprise.

Twenty minutes later, Draco still sat waiting for her, wondering if she would ever return. The time had allowed his mind to wander quite far off, so that by the time she did come back he was imagining a very specific kind of birthday present.

He wasn't too far off, though (in his mind anyway), when he saw her emerge from the stairway. Her hair was sleek and shiny, and she'd pulled it back in an elegant ponytail. Her thin arms were bare and her body covered luxuriously in a gold satin dress.

_She looks like summer,_ he smiled as the thought itself warmed him.

She spun in a full circle and smiled innocently at him before saying, "Sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but you might want something for warmer weather."

He laughed lightly and walked over to where she stood. With his hands firmly on her hips and his face nuzzled in the curve of her neck, he told her that she looked stunning and that she was the most gorgeous girl in the world.

"But why, Hermione, would we be dressing for warm weather?" he asked her as he gazed through the window behind her at the snow-covered scene.

"Well, you'll just have to find out won't you?" she smiled playfully and kissed him on the cheek. "Now go, we can't be late!"

Draco went to his room and quickly changed into light jeans and a white polo shirt, trading his everyday black dress shoes for a pair of tan flip flops.

"This better?" he asked her when he emerged a couple minutes later.

"Much," she nodded and then set out, dragging him by the hand behind her.

Students gaped as they made their way through the halls, partly because they looked like lunatics dressed like that in the weather they were having, and partly because no one had ever seen a Slytherin holding hands with a Gryffindor.

Draco smiled ironically at the situation he found himself in, so different from anything he ever thought his eighteenth birthday would be. His smile faded, however, when he realized that they were going outside into the snow, which was falling in a new coat now.

"Come on, Draco, run!" she screamed playfully from in front of him. He realized the hypocrisy in her statement when her stiletto heels were sinking into the thin layer of snow, making it nearly impossibly for her to move at all, not to mention run. Impulsively, for that was how Draco did everything, he scooped her up, laid her over his shoulder, and continued to trot through the snow.

"Where are we going, Hermione?" he asked her.

Through giggles and screeches he heard her make out the word, "Hogsmeade", so he went in that direction. They had to stop a couple minutes later for Draco to put a warming spell on his feet, which had gone purple from the exposure to the cold.

They arrived in Hogsmeade and Hermione immediately told Draco to put her down.

When he asked her why, she told him, "Well, I can't very well Apparate anywhere while you've got me on your shoulder, can I?"

"Hermione, this is getting crazy. Where are we going?"

"You'll have to see, won't you? Anyway, think palm trees," she said cryptically as she took his hand and Apparated the both of them.

Draco felt himself materialize and immediately noticed the change in temperature. He was boiling.

"Hermione, where are we?"

"We're in Hawaii!" she said excitedly as she spun around, letting the air catch in her skirt.

He smiled at her and shook his head softly.

_Well, how would she know that I hate warm weather? _He reasoned.

He took her in his arms and thanked her with a little kiss, but couldn't stay that way for long because he could feel the sweat beading on his forehead and arms, and he felt rather disgusted at himself.

She noticed.

"What's wrong, Draco?" she looked slightly hurt.

"It's nothing, I'm fine," he lied. He could feel his mouth getting dryer by the second.

The two of them spent the day walking on the beach, collecting shells, splashing in the warm salty water together, and Draco thought by the time the sun started setting that he'd done quite a good job of making it seem like he was having fun.

They sat on a rock near the water, Hermione's head in Draco's lap. The heat from her head was making his legs feel suffocated, and he smacked his lips unpleasantly, wondering when they would go back to cold England.

"Draco, what happened that night?" Hermione had just asked him.

"Uh – wait, what night?" he looked down at her, confused.

"When Harry killed Voldemort," she answered obviously. "Haven't you been listening?"

"I, yes, I have, but I just didn't know…" he trailed off.

"Well, go on then, tell me. I haven't heard your side of it yet," she pushed.

"I don't know, I didn't see much… It was just really bright, and then he fell down, dead," he shrugged. "And Harry told me to go tell the others."

"Oh," she frowned. "I thought there'd be more to it."

"Sorry," he said grumpily.

After a few moments, Hermione spoke again, this time in a strangely thoughtful tone. "He kissed me, you know," she told him. "Ron did."

Draco stared down at her. Why would she bring that up?

"Yeah, I heard when he came in on us that night," he snapped. "He also told you that… that he loved you, didn't he?"

"Yeah…" she narrowed her eyes, apparently thinking.

"What about it, though?"

"Oh, nothing… just, you know, telling you," she fumbled.

"Yes, okay, well I know," he snapped again. Hermione lifted her head out of his lap and spun to face him.

"What's wrong, Draco? You've been moody all day," he could see her face getting like it always did when she got angry.

"I told you, it's nothing," he insisted, so ardently that it was obviously a lie.

"Draco, do you love me?" she asked suddenly.

"What?! Do I – why are you asking me this?"

"Well, I just want to know," she said simply.

"I don't – I don't know Hermione, how am I supposed to know?" He was really not in the mood for this.

"You just do. Isn't that how it works?" she asked, as if the only acceptable answer was yes.

"I – well do you love me, then?"

She paused for a moment, her face shaping into a thoughtful frown. "I don't know," she stated finally.

"Then we're even, aren't we?" he growled.

She didn't say anything or look at him. She kept looking down at the sand and swirling her feet around in it, making designs. A few minutes passed, in which Draco became even more annoyed with everything. He didn't want to be there anymore, or be even remotely hot. He wanted to feel clean again. He wanted to be alone, away from girls asking how he felt about them.

Because he didn't know how he felt. He… he felt strongly for her, yes. But did he love her? He wasn't even sure if he knew what love was. And right then, he wanted to get away from her very badly. That couldn't possibly be love, could it? And she said it herself, she didn't know either. Why should he profess his love for her if she doesn't feel the same way? Or did she, but she didn't want to say it unless he did? And how could she be sure? What did she have to compare to?

Weasel? No one could possibly love him. Or could they? Did she love Ronald Weasley? Is that why she brought him up? Is that why she asked if Draco loved her?

"Hermione, are you in love with Weasley?" he asked her accusingly.

"I – am I? I… well, I don't know, I did feel… but that was a long time ago…" she thought out loud. "I suppose not," she finished.

"You 'suppose' not? You suppose not? How could you be with me and only 'suppose' that you aren't in love with someone else?" he fumed.

"Well, am I with you then?" she shot at him.

"What do you mean, of course you are," he shot back.

"Oh, of course I am! Just because you kiss me and… well, that doesn't mean we're 'together' exactly, does it? I mean Viktor and I – " she stopped herself.

"Viktor? Viktor who – " his eyes widened in amazement. "Do you mean Viktor Krum?"

"Yes, we – well, he kissed me back in our fourth year."

"And what else?" Draco demanded. The thought of that huge hulking man touching her made him sick.

"Nothing else, I swear!"

"Sure, nothing else," Draco mocked.

"Really, nothing!"

"Can we leave now?" he blurted before he knew what he was saying.

Her mouth hung open at him. She was raging, and he knew it. "Yes, we can," she said, and Apparated back to Hogsmeade without him.

"Fucking fantastic. Brilliant," he swore before Apparating too.

He stood there in the snow and his sandals, watching her run back to the castle. Standing there, with the cold air clearing his head, he wondered if they were really compatible or not.


	13. Returns

Chapter Thirteen:

**Chapter Thirteen: Returns**

Hermione had cried over Draco before. His birthday, the month before, had been a cause for many of her tears. But it didn't even compare to this.

She thought that her eyes might fall out of her head, and her throat threatened to crack and fall to pieces with every breath she took. Her hands shook – her whole body shook – as she cradled herself and rocked back and forth on her bed.

Her mind escaped back to the last happy memory she had of him.

"_You're gorgeous, you know that?" he had told her as she laid on top of him and let her hair fall as a curtain all around their faces. He smiled. "It's like a little hideout in here."_

"_And we need one, too," she rolled her eyes. "Do you ever get tired of it, Draco?"_

"_I don't know," he admitted. "I guess so."_

"_Me too. Ron won't talk to me still," she saw his face form into a scowl for a moment. "Harry is really civil, too," she went on. "I don't know if they're punishing me or what."_

_He rolled her over and followed, putting himself on top of her instead, her hair now strewn all over the soft cotton pillows._

"_Of course not," he told her. "They're just jealous. Don't you know that they both want you?"_

_Hermione had laughed incredulously at this statement. Ron, of course, but Harry? Never. "I don't think that's the reason," she said matter-of-factly. "I think it has something to do with the fact that I've fallen in love with their biggest enemy, literally now that Voldemort and all of the Death Eaters are gone."_

"_Wait, fallen in love with?" he looked down at her, his gray-blue eyes locked on her honey-brown ones._

"_Yes, Draco Malfoy, I've fallen in love with you," she repeated, smiling broadly. _

_He bit his lip nervously. "I love you too, Hermione," he said before he lowered his head to meet her in a soft, deep kiss._

Hermione only cried harder with these memories, because it reminded her of how quickly things had gone so bad. Earlier that day, Draco had barged into her room with accusations of cheating on him. This was, of course, as ridiculous as the assumption that pigs could fly, but he wouldn't take her word as truth. He said that he'd heard from _very reliable_ sources that she was caught kissing a sixth-year the day before.

After an hour or so of him yelling at her, her fuse had run out and her temper was full-blown.

"Well, I wouldn't have really been cheating on you anyways!" she screamed at him through hot tears running down her face. "Seeing as the last time we tried to discuss whether we were officially together or not, it ended in us not speaking for a week and then everything resuming back to normal! What are we, Draco? Am I even your girlfriend?"

" 'Wouldn't have been' ?" he ignored all but her first sentence. "Come on, Hermione, you and I both know that you did. Why else would you stop me every time I – well, it's obvious you're getting it somewhere else, isn't it?"

She fumed like a bull. "No, Draco Malfoy it is not obvious! Maybe I just don't think I'm ready for that yet? Anyways, you haven't answered my question."

"What do you want to know?" he demanded.

"Am I your girlfriend or aren't I?" she asked with her eyes locked on his.

"How would I know? Do you want to be?" he yelled.

"Yes, Draco, of course I want to be!" The words exchanged seemed somehow out of place, like they should be said over sweet whispers, not angry shouting.

"Then I guess you are!" he declared before he stormed out of the room, but not before adding, "And that makes it even worse that you've cheated on me!"

Hermione thought that somehow it was useless. He was too stubborn, she'd never be able to convince him that she was telling the truth.

So, she resolved, she must find whoever told him this lie, and get them to set it right.

Pulling herself together, she showered and dressed and headed down to the Gryffindor house to see if Ron or Harry knew anything. It was nearly six o'clock in the morning by the time she decided to go to them, so she thought they might not be horribly angry with her for waking them up.

She walked straight in and up to their dorm, only stopping momentarily to wake the Fat Lady, who was very grumpy indeed.

When she entered their bedroom, she noticed the changes immediately. The ten beds that had once occupied the room had been replaced by only a few beds, probably because of the small amount of students who returned this year. She identified Harry quickly, and went to his bedside.

"Harry, wake up, please?" she whispered. He only stirred a little, but then fell back into a deep sleep. "Harry," she said a little louder. "Wake up, Harry, I need you."

"Mmmm, I need you too Hermione," he grumbled as he pulled her into a hug, and then kissed her on the cheek.

"Wha – Harry, what are you doing?" she whispered harshly. She noticed then that he was still asleep.

She shook him a little. "Harry, come on, it's not the middle of the night or anything. Get up!"

"Hermione," she heard from the other side of the room. "Your hair's grown longer."

She turned with a peculiar face to see a very groggy Ron, sitting up in his bed. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and she was slightly uncomfortable with the sight of his chest and torso, which were both more muscular than she'd remembered them being. The last time she saw him shirtless was of course sometime in the summer after their third year, so it made a little sense that he'd changed.

"Yes, I guess it has," she responded, still wondering why he chose to say that to her after all this time. She stood and walked over to him.

"Hermione, I've wanted to tell you that – well, that I'm sorry for reacting the way I did… and if you want to be with M-Mal-_Malfoy­_," he struggled to get the name out. "Then I support you."

"Ron – I…"

"You're not with him anymore, are you?" he asked her as he looked into her eyes longingly. She knew then that he'd been lying about everything he'd just said. He didn't wait for her response. "Oh, God, I've been waiting so long for this," he said in a barely audible whisper.

He pulled her to him and embraced her tenderly, and she could tell that he was breathing in the smell of her hair. She decided not to tell him the truth. She didn't want to hurt him again. Instead, she let him hold her like she was everything he had.

So that was it, then. Harry and Ron were out of the question, because she wasn't going to ask Ron's help to get back together with Malfoy, and if she asked Harry, he'd certainly tell Ron. So she was alone. Again.

She tried to think of reasons that someone would tell Draco a lie like that. Number one, who was really angry with her, enough to do that? And number two, why?

Or was it that the person was angry with Draco and wanted to destroy their relationship to hurt him?

_Or!_ Hermione realized triumphantly. _The person wanted Hermione out of the way to have Draco all to herself!_

She headed to the Slytherin house directly after her last lesson, hoping to find Pansy Parkinson there.

Instead, she found a very drunk Blaise Zabini on the dark green leather couch in front of the empty fireplace, staring into it as if it was home to a roaring fire.

"Hello, Zabini, can you tell me where Pansy Parkinson is?" she asked him politely, ready with her excuse of 'I'm Head Girl, I need to speak with Pansy about something important,' if he asked.

"So you've finally realized?" he smiled at her mischievously.

"I – what?" she stuttered, unsure of what to say to him. _Does he know?_

"You've come to the conclusion that it was Pansy who told Draco about the sixth year," he said obviously. "Well, you're wrong."

"Who did, then?" she demanded, deciding not to argue with him. He knew that truth, so let him go on knowing it.

"I did," he declared triumphantly. "Pansy helped, though, so don't feel stupid."

"What do you mean?"

"And I thought you were the smart one," he ridiculed. "Let me lay it out for you. Pansy wants Draco back, I wanted to get some, Pansy and I made a deal. She pretended to catch you with another boy – remember Larry, the boy who needed you to take him to the Hospital wing a couple days ago? – and I reported the message to Draco," he explained cruelly. "Let me tell you, it was well worth it. Pansy was _very_ grateful." His sickeningly complacent smile reminded Hermione of the Draco from their third year, when she slapped him in the face.

"You're such a little rat," she glared at him. "You're going to tell Draco the truth," she told him threateningly.

"And what if I don't want to, Mudblood?" he mocked.

"Don't you ever call me that," she warned as she drew her wand on him. "If you don't fix this, I'll hex you back to the stone age."

"My my, aren't you anxious to get your little Draco back?" he smiled. "You and Pansy both… you're wild for him. Is that sex that good? I always thought that Draco would be sort of a lazy – "

"I mean it Zabini!" she pointed her wand at his forehead.

"Okay, okay," he relented. "I'll do it." He smiled again, and Hermione couldn't deny the charm that he possessed. And then he spoke and she remembered how vile he was. "You going to repay me or what?" he asked as he unbuttoned his pants.

"Oh, I'll repay you alright," she smiled as she sent a curse in that direction, causing him to look down with a horrified expression.

"What did you _do_?" he screamed like a little girl.

"Don't worry, _miss_ Zabini. It's reversible. Just as soon as you fix what you've messed up," she promised. "Oh, and by the way, I'd keep quiet about all of this if I were you," she threatened, and enjoyed watching him swallow fearfully.

"Blaise, why would you be such an insufferable traitor?" Draco asked through gritted teeth. This was his best mate if he'd ever had one, and it was unacceptable that he would lie to him.

"Draco, we're worried about you!" Blaise justified. "You're up here running around with this Mudblood, acting like none of your family would care – "

"None of them would care, Blaise," he let out grudgingly. "My mum's dead and my father's in Azkaban, nothing I do matters to them anymore."

"It matters to me!" Blaise argued.

"You're so ignorant!" Draco shouted. "You think any of this pureblood nonsense will get you anywhere? Merlin, Zabini, don't you realized that even Voldemort himself wasn't a pureblood? It's like this Muggle leader, Adolf Hitler. He wanted to kill off all of the impurities, but only because he was impure himself. It didn't work! No one is pure anymore, anyways! We were all just fooling ourselves."

"Since when do you know about Muggle leaders?" Blaise gaped.

"Since I started reading things other than _How to Hex Your Enemies_," Draco retorted.

"Hey, that's a good book – "

"Blaise, you're a fucking idiot. Don't you see? It's over! Voldemort is gone, we've all got to get over the pureblood crap. It doesn't matter!"

"Fine – it's over. But it wasn't when you started sleeping around with Muggle-borns."

"That's because I'm not as daft as you," Draco snapped. "It doesn't take a genius to realize that they're on the losing side."

"Aha! So you two are sleeping together!" His face lit up.

"No, Blaise, we're not," Draco cleared, and Zabini's face fell.

"Damn, Draco, you must be daft. You haven't hit that? She's fucking hot."

"Shut up, you moron. Don't talk about her like that," Draco seethed.

"You really care about this Mud – this girl?"

"Yeah, I do," Draco stated calmly.

"Then I won't interfere. Anymore, I mean," Blaise relented. "And I'd be happy to take Pansy off of your hands, too, if that's alright."

"Go right ahead, Blaise," Draco said, board. "She's yours."

Zabini left the room and Draco sat on his bed wearily.

_I'm such a bloody idiot,_ he told himself as he contemplated how to make up with Hermione.

"Draco," came a sudden voice from near his fireplace. Draco noticed the superiority and aristocracy in the voice immediately.

"What are you doing here?" he asked his father, with more than a little hostility.

"Granger, put me back," Zabini demanded.

"Okay, okay, don't get your panties in a twist," she smiled innocently.

A second later, Blaise was looking down his trousers to make sure that everything was in order. It was then that he heard a _thump_ on the floor next to him, and he looked over to see Hermione, unconscious, laying in a heap near his feet.


	14. Valentine's Day

Chapter Fourteen:

**Chapter Fourteen: Valentine's Day**

Blaise didn't know what to do. He had never in his life had someone faint right at his feet. She was breathing, he could see that, so she was okay, right?

Right? Or was she having a stroke or something? He was completely unsure.

But did he even care if she was okay? She'd put him back right, now, so he didn't need to have anything to do with her anymore. Somehow, though, he couldn't let himself walk out on her.

He lifted her in his arms, hardly able to believe that he was doing an act for the good of another human being, and hurried to Draco's room. He pounded his head on the door, unwilling to let go of her with one arm because he might drop her.

"What is it?" Draco interrogated, and Blaise noticed a distinctly annoyed and fearful tone in his voice. He was intrigued.

"Well, nothing, except that your girlfriend's fainted and I'm here to bring her to you."

"I – she's fainted?" Draco exclaimed. "Look – Blaise – I need you to leave her right there. Just put her down and then leave, okay? Right there next to the door."

"Why?" Blaise snorted. "What'chu hiding?"

"Nothing, just leave," Draco shot back.

Blaise didn't argue anymore. Whatever Draco was pissed off at, it was his business. He put the body down next to the door, like Draco said to, and then muttered, "I'm off, then," before retreating rather quickly to his own dorm.

There was just too much drama with those people.

"GIRLFRIEND?!" Lucius roared, once Blaise had gone.

"Yes, father, girlfriend. And I think you're going to love this one," he said rebelliously as he cracked the door open and peered out. A second later, he was placing Hermione on his bed and patting her face lightly.

"Granger?!" his father gaped. "A Mudblood?"

"Yep," Draco licked his lips. He'd never even dreamed of speaking to his father in this tone before. It felt so good. "Now are you going to let me know why you're here – and not in Azkaban – or are you going to make me call the Aurors?" He didn't look at Lucius as he spoke, a huge sign of disrespect, and kept his gaze on Hermione. He was worried about her, especially because it'd been a few days since he told her how he cared about her, or that he loved her, or even spoke nicely to her at all.

"I'm here," his father said. "Because I need your help."

"Ha," Draco scoffed. "My help? You want my help? After you pushed me into a task that could only end badly, then got yourself locked up, left my mother to be killed – "

"That's why I need your help!" Lucius interrupted. "I need to find whoever did it and kill them!"

"I know who did it," Draco breathed calmly. "I know and I'm not going to help you kill them. It's just an endless cycle if I do, and it'll never stop."

"What nonsense are you speaking, boy? Who's ingrained you with such codswallop? I'll bet it's that Mudblood."

"Don't you dare speak about her, not like that, not at all!" he stood face to face with his father, who was now significantly shorter than him, and even more significantly deteriorated.

"Are you threatening me?" Lucius breathed.

"Yes, I am," Draco said through gritted teeth. "You've ruined my life in every way you possibly could have. I don't ever want to see your face again."

"Draco, what have you let that little bitch do to you?" Lucius pushed.

"I said DON'T!" Draco shouted before swinging at his father's ash-covered face and hitting him square in the jaw. He threw another punch and hit him in the nose. It cracked loudly and blood spilled onto Lucius' dirty robes.

That second, Tonks broke through the door and hexed Lucius, his body falling rigidly on the floor as blood continued to flow.

"Professor!" Draco exclaimed, shocked.

"Sorry I wasn't sooner, Malfoy," she said to the younger. "I heard about his breakout and came right here. I thought he might try to contact you."

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" Hermione rubbed her eyes as she sat up slowly.

"Hermione!" Draco rushed to her and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry for not believing you," he cooed into her ear before taking her head in his hands and kissing her tenderly. He remembered, slightly too late, that Tonks was still in the room, and he glanced over at her. She was staring wide-eyed at the two of them.

"I never thought in a million years – " she breathed.

"I – Professor – " Hermione started.

"Don't worry, kids," she made a motion to zip her lips closed. "Secret's safe."

"Thank you so much," they both said. She didn't reply, she was too busy floating Lucius' body out the door.

"What happened, Draco?" Hermione asked a few seconds later.

"He just showed up here…" Draco explained the situation. He left out the reason that he hit his father, for whatever reason. What he didn't know was that she had regained consciousness before Draco swung the first blow. She was fully aware that he had drawn blood in the process of defending her dignity.

With that knowledge, she pulled him into a deep, forceful kiss. His lips stroked hers softly and passionately. She let him move down to her neck as she arched her back with pleasure.

She groaned quietly, and the noise sent a shiver down Draco's spine. His hands gathered her breasts together and he kissed the place where they met. She didn't stop him that time, and the arch of her back seemed to be an invitation for more.

But he didn't take any more.

_Slowly_, he told himself. _It's what she wants._

Instead, he moved back up and kissed her ear tenderly, whispering, "I love you," just loudly enough that she'd hear it. The sweet smile on her face told him that she had.

"Hermione!" called a voice from behind her. She recognized it immediately. Damn. She'd been hoping not to see him for a while.

"Ron, hi!" she faked. She was not at all happy to see him. Seeing him meant more lies, and lies were not her favorite at the moment. It had been a long day, and the stress from the ever-nearer NEWTs was making her feel sick constantly.

"So, I just wanted to ask if you were… well, if you were busy this afternoon because I though we might take a picnic near the Great Lake or something…" he asked hopefully.

"Sorry, Ron, but I can't today," she said, hating herself for causing the look that was now on Ron's face. "I'm so busy with everything going on… rain check?"

"Yeah, definitely…" he muttered dejectedly as he continued to walk alongside her. She was walking as fast as she could, how was he keeping up with her?

"So where's Harry?" she asked, trying to make conversation.

"He's… well, I actually don't know…" Ron pondered. "I saw him last about an hour ago, but he disappeared."

Hermione frowned. Was Harry hiding something, too? But no, she pushed the thought out of her head. Harry wasn't the deceptive type. He wouldn't be able to lie to his friends like she did.

They walked along silently a little longer before Ron said, "I have to go. Let me know when you've got time, okay?"

Hermione nodded her head and smiled before parting ways with him, sighing a little despite herself. She needed to relax today, and he was not helping.

It wasn't anything he did, it was just that she could only stand to be around him for very short amounts of time before the guilt got to her. And now it had really gotten to her. She felt her stomach rumbling uncomfortably and an acidic taste came up into her mouth. She ran to the bathroom in her dorm and heaved painfully, hot tears running smoothly down her face. She retched up as much as she had in her and then fell to the floor, sobbing.

She pulled herself together just in time, so that she was rinsing off her face by the time Draco came looking for her.

"Hermione?" he called as he knocked on the bathroom door. "You in there?"

"Yeah, I'm here, just a second – " she said as she wiped her face dry.

She opened the door and felt herself lighten. He was dressed very nicely – in black slacks and a black button-down shirt with a ruby red tie.

"What are you dressed up for?"

"Come on Hermione, do you mean to tell me that you're the only girl in the whole school who failed to notice that today is Valentine's Day?"

Her stomach flipped. Was it really? "No, silly, I didn't forget – I just… thought that we wouldn't be celebrating because we're a secret and all…" Good thing she could extemporize so well.

"Well, my dear lady, we will in fact be celebrating. So you go get yourself dolled up and then meet me downstairs," he told her in a smooth purr. He was so charming.

She conjured a dress – a beautiful silk one that fell a little above mid-thigh – in the same exact color as his tie. As she slipped it on, she saw momentarily the harsh lines that her ribs were making, and hoped that he wouldn't notice the weight she'd lost.

It wasn't her fault, she wasn't trying to, but ever since the week before, she seemed to be melting down to bone. She couldn't eat very much, or keep down very much either. It scared her, but she knew it was nothing compared to if Draco found out.

She put on a little pair of boots, flat and black that went up to a little below her knee, that fit her like they were part of her skin. She thought it downplayed the scandalous-ness of the very revealing dress. Happy with her appearance, she stepped down the stairs lightly and saw the most miraculous sight in the world.

The room was cleared and all of the lights were dimmed, the fireplace was crackling and there was a little table in the center of the big hall. The wooden floors shined in the light of the fire, and the shine increased as candles lit themselves all around the room. The table was set with a full-course meal and a bottle of red wine.

Hermione located her date without trouble. He was standing at the bottom of the staircase looking up at her admiringly. His hair was light as ever even in the winter, and it shone in the firelight, too. His smirk widened and she caught a glimpse of his shining teeth.

"Hello, my love," he bowed to her. "May I take your arm?"

Hermione allowed him to lead her over to the table and seat her chivalrously.

"May I pour you a nice glass of wine, finest in all of England?"

"I would love some," she smiled graciously. She wasn't a wine person – really, she wasn't an alcohol person at all – but the gesture was so nice that she didn't want to resist.

They ate and drank and talked merrily, and Hermione allowed herself to forget about her problems for the moment. His eyes came in direct contact with hers every so often and sent a shiver down her spine. She marveled at the fact that he was still able to do that to her.

"You finished?" she asked, looking at his plate. He seemed to have eaten a substantial amount, and she was getting anxious to get the food away from her. He replied that he was, indeed, full, and they stood from the table. Hermione noticed her head swaying a little bit.

Draco transfigured the table and everything on it into a very luxurious sofa, placed near enough to the fireplace to warm them while they sat on it. Hermione scooted close to Draco and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you for all of this, Draco. It was so thoughtful of you."

"Anything for you," he smiled. He placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead, then her lips softly. Both kisses sent electric waves through her body, and she pulled him closer for more. The kiss was warm and heavy, and within only a couple seconds they were both breathing heavily. She removed his tie, kissed his neck, and then unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt. She kissed his skin there, too. He felt like he had a fire inside of him, his skin radiated heat. She could feel his breath on her ear and it tickled in a sensational way. He put his hands on her hips and guided her on top of him, and straddling his waist she began press herself on him. He was pressing too, whether by will or just because he couldn't help it, she didn't know. But every time they met sent a shock through her. He had his hands pressed flat on her back, and they would tense every time they rocked towards each other. She was entirely unable to open her eyes anymore.

It was like some other force was driving her, and although she felt more aware than ever before, she was unable to control what she was doing. Or she just didn't want to.

Her thin fingers moved to unbutton the rest of his shirt, and once it was off the silk of her dress glided along his bare skin majestically. His chest was glittering in the dim light, and she knew that it was from that certain kind of sweat. She felt it too, it was making her dress cling slightly to her.

He moved his hands to her thighs and began moving her dress up, more and more, until it reached her waist. She heard him inhale deeply and then exhale again, and she kissed him passionately and bit his lip lightly.

"Draco, I need you," she whispered hoarsely. He didn't respond with words, but her expression was all he needed. He unclasped her bra and slid it off, then removed her underwear. His pants were off next, and before she knew it they were there, pressed against each other, with nothing in between them but the thick sexual tension in the air. She looked into his eyes and saw the desire there, and she kissed him again before he asked her, "Are you sure?"

She didn't answer. Instead she guided herself to where she knew she was supposed to be, and let him fill her completely. She eyes rolled in the back of her head involuntarily and all conscious thought drained from her mind in the moment of intense pleasure.


	15. Hermione's Dilemma

Chapter Fifteen:

**Chapter Fifteen: Hermione's Dilemma**

Hermione couldn't help but feel pulled in different directions. Being with Draco was the best thing to ever happen to her, but when she wasn't with him…

Well, it wasn't fantastic, to say the least. Ron and Harry had become insistent on spending regular time with her every day, and she knew it was because they could tell something was up. If Draco hadn't noticed the weight loss by now (which she assumed – or hoped – he hadn't, since he hadn't said anything), the two of them definitely had.

It was mid-April now, and the eating problems were getting worse. They tried to feed her more and more, hoping that she would just eat a lot and gain weight back, but they didn't understand: that just wasn't how it worked.

Hermione considered Harry to be one of the most sensitive people she knew, but somehow she didn't feel like she could talk to him anymore. He was different now. The end of Voldemort was a cause for celebration, but to Harry it meant a cause to mourn. He had never killed before, and no matter what anyone said about Voldemort "deserving it", Harry was incorrigible. He didn't talk much, but his looks said more than most people could.

Ron, on the other hand, talked more than ever. He seemed (and Hermione had to admit that she was to blame) to think that he was once again on the way to a relationship with her, and like he always had, he got all nervous and twitchy. He would ramble on, and although Hermione did care for him deeply, she just wasn't interested in hearing about the ghoul in the attic again this week.

But now it was worse. Hermione had finally been guilted into reminding Ron of their rain check date, and she was starting to regret it.

"Hermione," Ron was saying as they walked through the sunny field over to the lake's edge. "What ever happened with you and me?"

Hermione's voice caught in her throat. He hadn't asked anything serious like this in months.

"Umm, what do you mean, Ron?"

"I mean, how is it that you and I ended up together instead of you and Harry, or me and someone else?"

"Wait, Ron," Hermione had to stop him there. "You and I are hardly together."

Ron blushed and looked like he might yell, but he just mumbled something that Hermione didn't quite hear.

"What was that?" she asked him.

"I said, we would be if Malfoy hadn't gotten in the way," he repeated loudly through gritted teeth.

"Ron, that's not why…" Hermione tried to calm him down.

"Come on Hermione, don't even give me that. You know we're meant for each other. The only thing that got in our way was that son of a bitch."

"Ron! That's not even remotely true!" Hermione said indignantly. She hoped that she wasn't blowing her cover.

"So you don't think we're meant for each other, then?" Ron shouted.

"It's not – that's not what I meant!" she yelled back at him. Her temper was rising quickly. "God, Ron, you can be so daft sometimes! I waited so long for you! Don't you think that maybe it wasn't Draco who got in the way? Don't you think it was maybe YOU?"

"How could I have gotten in the way? That's just nonsense Hermione!" Ron's hands were shaking and his ears were redder than Hermione had ever seen them.

"No, Ronald, it isn't nonsense! You've always been too slow in making a move! You couldn't ask me to the Yule Ball in time, you missed your chance to take me to Slughorn's party last year, and you were too late in telling me you loved me," she said with watery eyes.

"Well I'm making my move now, aren't I?" he yelled, and before she knew what was happening he'd captured her in a hard kiss, nothing like the last time, and yet still nothing like the kisses that Draco gave her. Ron was kissing her with so much anger and frustration, like he was only doing it to prove some point.

She pushed him off, but by the time the idea had even occurred to her, he had calmed down. His face was full of sorrow now and he looked as if he might cry, too.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't mean to yell at you… I care about you so much," he said with his eyes locked on hers. Hermione couldn't help but smile. A year ago, Ron would have been completely incapable of apologizing like that, especially less than a month after it actually happened.

"I – Ron, I care about you too – " Hermione began, but decided to leave it at that. She didn't want to break his heart again. She didn't want to tell him that he'd missed his chance.

The two of them were settled on a red and white checkered blanket minutes later, a delicious meal set out for their enjoyment. But Hermione couldn't even enjoy looking at it. Ron was watching her, she could tell even when she wasn't looking at him, and she had to force herself to eat at least a little bit. After a couple minutes of silence, Ron spoke again.

"Hermione, I know I've been really dumb," he told her softly. "But I want to change it. I really want to try to be with you. I love you Hermione, and I think that if you give me the chance, you'll love me too."

Hermione didn't say anything. Looking into his eyes, she could almost believe the words he was saying to her. Her mind retreated quickly back to the time the year before, when Ron had taken her hand into his own. It had seemed at that moment that everything would pick up for them. The electricity that went though her body was like a promise to her that she would end up with him. He had been there for her at Dumbledore's funeral, a tough time for all of them. Maybe, just maybe, he could be there all the time…

And being with Ron would mean no more lying. And it would mean that she would actually be able to live without feeling guilty 100 of the time. If she broke it off – right then – with Draco, she could be with Ron and maybe, like he said, she could love him. She had loved him. She loved him still, if she was honest with herself. There was no one else who cared more about her. Ron was definitely one of the people she cared most about, too. So why not? They had so much behind them, such a strong foundation. There was a time when his words would have been the best thing she'd ever heard.

"Hermione?" Ron was looking into her eyes intently. "Are you alright? You look like you're thinking really deeply."

"I was, actually," she smiled. "Ron, I think that maybe you're right."

He smiled then too, and he took her chin in his hand. He kissed her sweetly, and Hermione kissed him back. Not out of pity, like she had before, but because she really wanted to. She kissed Ron Weasley because she wanted to be with him, like she had hoped she would for so long.

"I don't want to rush into this," he told her, a few minutes later, after they'd been laying silently side by side in the sun for a while. "I mean, I don't want to take it too slowly, either, but I want you to think about it for sure."

"I will, Ron. I'll think about it."

He got up just then. He smiled down at her before turning and walking through the field, back up to the castle.

After he was gone, Hermione remained for another hour or so. She had so much to think about. She had just promised Ron that she was interested in picking things up again, or maybe not again seeing as things had never picked up for them in the first place. Either way, she'd given him hope. Honestly, she'd given herself hope. She loved Draco, sure, but being with him caused her so much pain. It was tearing up her relationships with her best friends, it was making her moody and touchy, it was even making her sick to her stomach. Maybe it wasn't worth it.

She tried to remember a time when it was worth it, a time when she'd been so happy with Draco that she never doubted whether it was right or not. She couldn't. They fought all the time, not badly, but still. Lovers quarrels were frustrating, too. They only actually got along about half the time.

But when they did get along…

Draco was a more passionate person than Ron was. In most ways, but especially when it came to her. She felt more when Draco kissed her than she did when Ron kissed her. Sure, the only times Ron had kissed her, neither of them had been very comfortable with the fact… and it was true that Draco had kissed more people than Ron had, so maybe it was just a lack of experience…

_Listen to yourself,_ she thought self-loathingly. _You're comparing kissing styles. You idiot, just decide which one you'd rather be with._

She tried to tell herself that it was an easy choice to make. She tried to believe that she would be able to choose between the boy she'd always loved and the one she'd fallen so hard for.

Draco didn't know why Hermione insisted that nothing was wrong. He could tell she was worried about something, or maybe more than one thing, maybe lots of things, but she kept telling him that she was fine and that nothing was bothering her.

Bullshit.

She was losing weight by the second. Did she think he hadn't noticed?

She never hugged him the way she used to. She would just stand limply in his arms, as if she were dead. She wasn't ever happy, and he could hear her crying sometimes.

He asked her again and again if she was okay, and if she was happy with him, but she never would admit that she wasn't. It had made him sad and worried for her, but now it was just making him angry.

Was she hiding something? Was that why she was so sick? Was she cheating on him?

He tried to push the thought out of his head. He didn't want to go accusing her of being unfaithful _again_, unless she really was of course.

_It's just exams_, he told himself again, for the billionth time that week. _She's just stressing over NEWTs, and then she'll go back to normal._

Why, then, did she seem to be studying less and less?

He looked over at her, curled up in the biggest chair in the whole room, sinking into the soft cushions. She had two fingers from each hand pressing on her temples, and her eyebrows were furrowed deeply. He would have thought that she must be contemplating something deeply, but she made this face so often lately that he was becoming sure of the opposite. People just can't think deeply as much as Hermione seemed to.

She shifted in her chair a little and looked up at him. She seemed extremely surprised to see him.

"Draco, come here," she whispered with a weak little smile.

He didn't disobey. When she acted like this, I meant that she wanted him to hold her, and he was perfectly fine to do that. He walked over to her and dropped on his knees, bringing his lips to the same height as hers. They kissed softly, and Draco felt a stab through his heart as he absorbed her pain for that one second.

She scooted over to the side of the cushion, and he wedged himself next to her and pulled her on top of him. She laid there, curled up like a kitten in his lap, until she fell asleep.

Their books and notes and quills and studies laid forgotten on the floor.


	16. The Past

Chapter Sixteen: The Past

**Chapter Sixteen: The Past**

Draco stared at himself in the large gilded mirror that hung in his bathroom.

_There is definitely something wrong_, he thought as he fingered the root of black growing into his platinum hair. He hadn't noticed it before, but it was there, plain as day. Surely, he was dreaming.

He had awoken only a few minutes before and headed to his morning shower, but the streak of black had caught his eye.

He panicked. What would everyone think if they saw him? He looked like… like some kind of reverse-skunk. He glowered at the reflection in the mirror with all the nastiness he had in him, which was quite a bit.

Just then, in that unpleasant pose, he noticed something else that shocked him. There was something wrong with his eyes.

"Merlin! What the fuck is that!?" he screamed as he pressed his forehead into the mirror for a better look. There was a definite pool of black surrounding his icy blue eyes. The dark hue seemed to be leaking into the blue, even, and turning it darker. He couldn't see the transformation happening, but if he looked away from the mirror for a minute and then back he could see the difference.

Enough was enough. He pounded his open palm on the mirror with violent force before storming out of his bathroom.

"Hermione!" he called, not trying to hide the anger in his voice. "Hermione!"

He pounded his fist on her door and she opened within a couple seconds with a scared and tired blend of emotions on her face. The fear in her eyes deepened when she saw him.

"Merlin Draco, what happened to you!?" she cried.

"Shit Hermione, I don't know!" he yelled more violently than he meant to.

She gaped at him. After a long time, she stepped closer and reached her hand up to the top of his head. She rubbed the hairs together with her forefinger and thumb, her brows furrowed like they usually were lately. She ran her fingers down to his eyes, and he closed his eyelids so she could pass over them lightly.

"Draco, this isn't funny," she said, and he could detect some anger in her voice.

"Hermione, it's not a joke!" he argued.

"I'm scared."

"Me too," he agreed. He didn't know why, because it was obvious. Who the hell wouldn't be scared if they were being invaded with a color?

Draco hung his head. Was he seriously going to have to deal with this, right now? Why did this kind of thing happen to him?

"Draco, we should take you up to Madame Pomfrey," Hermione told him, and not without reason. Draco didn't doubt the need for an experienced healer. But did he have to go all the way through the castle like this?

"Can't she come here?" he whined.

"Draco, that's ridiculous. How would we get a hold of her to let her know that she should come?" Hermione asked with raised eyebrows and hands on her hips. She reminded him in that minute of Mrs. Weasley.

"Well, you could go bring her back, couldn't you?"

"You're being crazy," she scolded. "No one's going to be out at this time, anyway. After all, it is only –" she yawed as she finished her sentence "– five-thirty."

"I need time to get ready in the morning!" Draco defended. He didn't like feeling this vulnerable, and he was angry with Hermione for being so unaccommodating.

"Yes well Goyle, if I could get out that easily again, I would, wouldn't I?" Lucius hissed.

"I was only saying – "

"I know, I know, '_you did it once you can do it again_'," he mocked.

Ever since the second rise of Voldemort, the Dementors had retreated from Azkaban and left the prisoners with little guard other than an Auror or two. The biggest problem was the lack of wand, and the fact that the prison was in the middle of the ocean – a very, very cold one at that.

It was relatively true that it would be easy to escape again. Lucius was a very advanced wizard, he was able to do wandless magic just as easily as he could perform with his wand. The biggest problem for him, then, was the fact that it was impossible (obviously, seeing as it was a prison) to Apparate in or within a mile radius of Azkaban. Lucius simply had get past the lax security to swim a mile out to sea, and then Apparate himself back home. Or to Knockturn Alley. Or to Borgin's (which had been long deserted), or to anywhere else that suited him.

He would find his way back to his mansion regardless, however, and then he would have to cope with all of the turmoil in his pampered, lavish life.

Some people considered Lucius Malfoy to be a harsh man. Others considered him cruel. Now, he would admit that he was a little _prideful_, at times. He would even go as far as saying that he was arrogant, when he wanted to be. But he would never consider himself a heartless man.

Sure, he had killed many people, Muggles and magical people alike. Sure, most of the murders had been unnecessary to the random passerby. But if you got a glimpse into his life…

You see, Lucius hated Muggles and Mudbloods tremendously. But even more, he hated blood-traitors. That was just something he couldn't tolerate, to side with the filth like they were all high and righteous. They were just as bad as the dirty Squibs.

So, yes, he'd killed. But they all had deserved it. They hadn't even respected themselves enough to acknowledge their superiority. They didn't deserve anything _other than_ death.

And the Muggle killings, well they explained themselves, didn't they?

No, Lucius Malfoy would not have considered himself cruel in the least bit. He was, after all, a recently widowed man. People were expected to feel sorry for him instead of treating him like some criminal. Not that anyone treated him like a criminal, anyways. Not to his face, no one would ever dare.

Narcissa had been… well, she was his wife, that explained it, didn't it? He had married her as a young man – young, naive, and entranced by her. Although their marriage had been arranged, as many Pureblood marriages were, he didn't feel any bitterness toward his match. He had loved her. He had, hadn't he?

He had certainly felt a great deal of something toward her. He respected her – well, respected wasn't the right word. He thought of her highly. Or, well, sort of highly. She was the perfect Malfoy wife, regardless. She was attractive in a haughty way, she knew her place. She was Pure down to the very last drop. Lucius had found her to be his biggest pleasure.

In his home life, that is. He had better women elsewhere, but those were… well, different kinds of better, to say the least. Not one of his many mistresses would have been close to suitable the way that Narcissa was.

Or, had been, really. She was gone now. Lucius, although he was in his own eyes a rather forgiving man, felt honor-bound to repay whoever'd killed her. Honor-bound, and he just wanted to punish someone for the bad things happening in his life.

He was a prisoner, a dejected aristocrat who would never again rise to his former glory. He would never again be regarded with the Malfoy honor. He was finished.

Now all the hope he had was his son, who had somehow found a way out of his fate the previous year, and was now on the side of the Blood-traitors and Muggleborns. He was associating with the dirty Granger girl, for heaven's sake. How was he, Lucius Malfoy, supposed to deal with his one and only son becoming a filthy betrayer? He needed to rectify the situation.

And he planned to do so. First, by capturing Draco back to the side of the Purebloods, the Malfoy side, and next by slaughtering his wife's killer viciously.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, I can't seem to find any reason for this…" Madame Pomfrey bustled around his bed, looking at him from all angles and trying to address the reason for this strange occurrence. "Frankly, son, I can't say that I've seen anything like this before…"

"But he's going to be alright, isn't he?" Hermione pepped from the chair that she was sitting in.

"Yes, well, I'd like to say so, but – really, I'm not sure at all," she frowned.

"What d'you mean, 'not sure at all'? Surely there has to be something in your – your books or, or something. There has to be a way to _fix this_," Draco whined as he pulled on his now jet-black hair. The contrast of the dark hair and eyes made his skin look very pale, pasty in a way, and sort of sickly. He looked like a big bruise in a way, all dark and unhealthy.

"Books, maybe… Oh, if only Dumbledore were here," she wrung her hands nervously.

"Well he's not, so just fix me!" Draco snapped. He was rather grumpy, grumpier than he probably should have been.

"Draco, she's doing the best she can!" Hermione scolded.

"Then it obviously isn't good enough, is it!?" he growled.

Madame Pomfrey gasped. Draco looked at her through harshly slotted eyes. The sight of her fear sent a flash through his brain and he blinked, suddenly aware of the fact that he was being unacceptably rude.

"I – Sorry, Madame Pomfrey, I don't know what came over me…" he mumbled. He suddenly felt very, very tired. "I think I'm going to take… a nap," he said airily as he yawned. He let his head fall backwards into the pillow and immediately dropped into a deep sleep.

The time had come. He had a plan now, a better one this time, and he was going to get what he wanted.

_That little twit, to think that he could openly defy him. Defy his own father, for Christ's sake! _Lucius mused as he swam at a slow pace away from the confinement. He wasn't in a hurry – he knew that no one would catch him. He was an undeniably cunning man, he was – in his own opinion, anyway.

_That little whore, that dirty filthy little Muggleborn whore,_ he seethed. He simply couldn't get over the fact that she had somehow entranced his son. She must have done something extremely seductive to get him… Lucius let his thoughts wander briefly before stopping himself in disgust. It had been a very long time, but not long enough to start fantasizing about filthy Mudblood teenagers.

He reached the limit of the spell and Apparated immediately to his private den at the Malfoy Manor. Everything in the house had been blocked off – everything, that is, except for the hidden rooms and caverns and dungeons. Those parts, possibly even more numerous than the visible parts of the house, had been left completely untouched.

Lucius walked gingerly to the chair where his son had sat – terrified and defiant at the same time – almost two years ago now. He lowered himself into it and felt his joints creak unpleasantly. He couldn't deny the truth, he was aging, and aging fast. That was all the more reason for his urgency. He needed to get his son back on the right path and his revenge fulfilled before he could give himself over to death.

After resting in the armchair for no longer than a few minutes, Lucius got up and walked to the edge of the room. A quick tap was directed in several different parts of the wall before it opened smoothly to a wide, light-filled room. Glass vials and jars filled the cluttered shelves and all kinds of objects filled them, all undistinguishable to the eyes that had never seen dark objects so rare before. But to Lucius, this room felt like home. The glass glittered majestically and shone triangles of light on his face, and his mouth parted into a pained, uncomfortable smile. Anyone watching would have wondered if that was the first time he had ever contorted his face in that manner before.

He stepped through the practically glowing room and located the object that he was looking for. A small crystal vial filled with a black liquid – so black that it appeared to be a hole in the materials of the universe. The liquid floated around in an ethereal way as Lucius popped the cork and the fluid wrapped itself around his fingers weightlessly.

"_Addia Draco_!" Lucius roared, and the liquid flashed out of existence, traveling through space and time to reach his son while he slept the previous morning, interrupting the flow of his daily life and thrusting an altogether unforgettable experience on him.

The moment his eyes were shut, Draco was traveling through a vortex of purple and green – something like what he saw when he Apparated, only more violent. He felt himself thrust into a hard, fleshy object and immediately knew that something was extremely wrong.

He looked down at his unreasonably long, inhuman fingers with inch-long fingernails of thick yellow as they clutched at his robes. He was draped in dark, flowing garments that seemed to float around his feet. He reached up and felt his face and was surprised to find a flat, serpent-like nose instead of his own prominent one. He knew immediately what had happened.

He was in Voldemort's body.


	17. Loophole Potion

Chapter Seventeen:

**Chapter Seventeen: Loophole Potion**

Panic rushed in from every angle. He was trapped inside the body of the most evil wizard who ever lived.

How did he get there? Why was he there? Did this mean that Voldemort was never really gone? Was Draco's spirit inside Voldemort's body, or had Draco's body transformed into Voldemort's?

Draco looked around frantically. He was in a small room, a dark, damp, musty room, filled with cobwebs and nothing more. He searched for some sign of another person there, but there were no sounds or voices, just silent room and a door in the corner.

He made his way in the foreign body to the door, struggling with the oversized feet and the skeleton-like limbs. He felt heavier than he thought he should.

He wretched the door opened, it seemed to have been closed for months.

"I have an idea!" he felt himself voice loudly, and at the same moment he noticed the room that he walked into was full of people. All excited-looking, too. He recognized all of them, but only some of them he could pinpoint from where he knew them.

"What is it, our Dark Lord?" he heard a feminine voice call from the back of the room.

"The Malfoy boy!" he announced, unwilling to let himself speak but completely unable to change the course of events.

"Draco!?" he heard a voice shout. It was his father. It was Lucius. "My Lord, my Master, you wish to use my son?"

"I do," he replied. He felt himself well up with anger at his father, but was unable to express the feeling. Lucius groveled like a slave.

"What is your idea, my worthy and powerful Lord?"

"Your son is going to kill Dumbledore – he'll kill him, and then I will have Harry Potter to pluck from his life whenever I want to." Draco felt a fleeting feeling of victory pass through him, and he realized that he was feeling whatever it was that Voldemort felt when this had really happened.

_Had happened,_ Draco mused. _It is happening. Right now, it's happening_.

He became vaguely aware of himself speaking when he heard the words, "Yes, Lucius, give him the Mark, tell him what to do, I trust that you will make sure he completes his task?"

"Oh, yes, Dark Lord, he will not fail you."

"Good… good, because if he does – Lucius hear me well – if he does, it's his life."

It was a bit strange, for some reason, for Draco to be speaking the words that had threatened his own life. Draco almost laughed from the ridiculousness of the situation, until he remembered how afraid he was, and how many things could be going wrong with the universe at that very second.

His mind flashed forward and time seemed to have as well. He was now sitting in a room with Snape, facing him and seated across from him like an equal.

"I'm sure you understand, Severus," he was saying.

"Yes, Dark Lord, I do understand."

"Because this is not just a way to get back at the Malfoys for the pain they've caused me. All of the attention they're drawing towards the Death Eaters, with all of their dark objects and such… and Lucius, even though I was able to retrieve him quite effectively from Azkaban, still causes me grief to take care of. But no… I'm not only punishing. Draco was a solid choice because, you have to know Severus, how talented the boy is in Dark Arts."

"I do, as a matter of fact," Snape said in an arrogant tone that made Draco wonder what he meant exactly by that agreement.

"Draco is going to be one of my finest Death Eaters ever. If he succeeds, that is," he chucked darkly. Draco felt an extremely strange emotion rise in him, almost like pride. He was almost proud to be spoken of with such high regard.

"Madame Pomfrey, what do you think is wrong with him, honestly?" Hermione spoke with a soft voice to the school nurse. She could tell that there was an answer, but the woman didn't want to let Hermione in on the guess. That scared Hermione more than the actual answer probably would have.

"I don't want to frighten you, dear, but if you insist, I'll let you know what I think," she spoke slowly.

"Yes, I do insist. Please."

"There is obviously some dark magic involved," she began. "The question is, where did it come from?"

"Madame, do you think….?"

"I would go as far as to say that," the nurse explained. "I would say that it is possibly one of his followers, one of them that somehow escaped death or imprisonment."

"Why do you out rule the possibility - ?"

"Miss Granger, I out rule the possibility because I simply am not willing to believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could return."

"Don't you think it's rather dangerous, though, to not even explore the option?" Hermione's temper was rising. She didn't want to skip over something that was so important, and Madame Pomfrey was anxious to not consider it, just because she didn't want to shatter the peace that had settled finally. But it was a possibility, and if it was in fact the answer, Draco's life was in even more peril than they had imagined.

"Miss Granger, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Madame Pomfrey said with a hint of bitterness in her tone. She obviously wasn't enjoying Hermione's forceful suggestion. "I would say that you could be of help in the library – try to find some curse with these symptoms."

Hermione fumed as she stalked down the halls. '_Go to the library, Hermione', 'You're the smartest girl in the school, Hermione'_, she mocked in her head. _Then why don't you listen to me?_

She did take the advice, despite her anger. She flopped down in the wooden chair at her usual table with five or six books that might have the answer in them.

It was hours later when she shut the final book, annoyed with the lack of success, when she suddenly remembered that it was a week day.

"Shit!" Hermione cursed loudly, causing Madame Pince to look at her harshly. She scrambled out of the library without returning the books to their shelves and dressed in a matter of two minutes. She ran a comb through her hair and brushed her teeth in a hurry before running full speed down to her first class: Potions.

"MISS Granger," Slughorn jeered loudly as she slipped in the room, chest heaving violently from having run from her dorm all the way down to the dungeons. "Would you please care to explain why you are late today?"

Hermione's mind raced. Did she tell the truth, or make up an excuse? Or should she just apologize and sit down? "Umm, no, I don't care to explain…" she announced, unable to find anything else to say.

"Miss Granger, twenty points from Gryffindor. Now do you have an explanation?"

"I – Sorry," she mumbled as she slipped into a seat next to Ron.

"Hermione, what's going on?" Ron whispered to her a few minutes later, when the lecture was in full-swing again.

"I can't tell you now – I'll explain later," she whispered back. She was going to have to bring in the recruits to solve this one.

After a miserable Potions class in which Hermione succeeded in creating the worst concoction of her life, the trio exited the dungeon room and Hermione began to explain the situation.

"There's something wrong with Draco," she said.

"Well, if there isn't, my name's not Harry Potter," Harry snorted. Ron sniggered and agreed.

"No, boys, seriously. He woke me up this morning with black roots in his hair and black pigment leaking into his eyes. And it's gotten worse now – I think he's in a comatose."

"Malfoy, in a coma? How long do you think it'll last?" Ron joked, still not taking her seriously.

"Okay, Ron, Harry, for one second imaging that it isn't Malfoy. Try to think about the possibilities," Hermione tried to be patient with the two of them.

"Dark Magic," Harry said bluntly. "It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," Ron agreed again.

"Okay, but from where? Or, whom?" Hermione interjected.

The boys were silent as they walked with wide gaits down the second floor corridor.

"I don't know, Hermione, but isn't your next class Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Ron asked as he stopped walking in front of a group of students.

"It is – wait, Ron, how did you know that?" Hermione called after Ron and Harry, who had already continued walking down the hall, conversing of other things.

Ron turned around and shrugged his shoulders before resuming his gait without looking back at her again.

Hermione tried to stay behind to ask Tonks afterward, but there was another boy who was keeping her attention. She could tell that he was just stalling to try to get another look at her breasts, which even Hermione noticed were larger and more revealed than usual. She frowned with wondering what the reason could be.

Finally, the boy left and Hermione went up to Tonks.

"Professor," she began, and suddenly the memory of her and Draco's shared kiss in from of the teacher flashed in front of her eyes. She blushed furiously, but went on. "Draco has been… cursed, or something like that. He's unconscious, if he's still like he was when I left him in the hospital wing. Anyway, I was just wondering if you knew anything that could help me…" Hermione stumbled.

"Well, you'll need to be a little more specific," Tonks said, smiling. Hermione couldn't figure out for the life of her why she'd be smiling with this news. She noticed just then that Tonks wasn't looking normal. She looked so… radiant. And her left hand was resting lightly on her belly.

"Professor are you - ?"

She smiled wider, light tears brimming at her eyes. "You're the first to ask," she said. "Don't tell, okay? I want it to be a little longer."

Hermione forgot her problem momentarily as she squealed with excitement for her teacher and friend. "Tonks this is fantastic!"

She giggled lightly, then her face relaxed into the light grin that she'd had before. "Now, tell me what's happened."

Hermione explained everything with the best of detail possible, and Tonks nodded along with her until she finished.

"Hmm, it sounds interesting. Seems to me that someone – let's not speculate as to whom yet – has given Draco a very powerful and dangerous curse. It's called Draught of Porousity, also known as Loophole Potion, and it's not so much a curse as it is a… well, a potion, I suppose. But no one, at least no one I've ever heard of, knows the ingredients. Along with the potion, however, carries a curse that causes paranoia, irritability, and sometimes violence. The two magics are combined, though. I've never heard of either one existing where the other doesn't."

"Okay, but what does this Loophole Potion do?" Hermione asked, amazed that Tonks knew this much about the curse.

"Well, it depends, but it seems to me that this time, the potion has been connected with the past of someone with black hair and eyes. That's what the potion does, it's user connects a particular individual to it, and then the victim will transform slowly into the physical form of the person, and then be thrust into the past of that individual," Tonks explained. "So, the culprit is not our main focus, although it would be good to know who is trying to hurt Mr. Malfoy, but more important is the object that the potion is turning Draco in to. Who has black hair and black eyes?"

"Well, thousands of people," Hermione sighed.

"Yes, but which significant ones?" Hermione got the feeling that Tonks knew than answer but wanted Hermione to come to it herself. That annoyed Hermione.

"Well, Harry has black hair, but green eyes… Did James Potter have black eyes?"

"No, he had hazel eyes. But why would someone want to thrust Draco into James' past, anyway? No, it would be someone that Mr. Malfoy is connected to, otherwise there would be no real use for the potion – see, it is usually used to give the victim another viewpoint, and therefore change the victim's beliefs about certain things."

"Wait – Voldemort!" Hermione gasped. She was right before – it was Voldemort doing this to Draco! "He had red eyes, but what about when he was younger? Didn't Tom Riddle have black eyes?"

"I do believe he did," Tonks nodded. "That's what I was thinking."

She kept on nodding, Hermione watching her intensely. It struck Hermione then just how much like Dumbledore Tonks was. Sometimes, anyways. Tonks definitely had different characteristics, too.

The teacher took a deep breath and stated, "Now that we think we know who Draco is becoming, let's try to think who would have tried to turn him into that."

"His father," Hermione said immediately. "Lucius would try to make Draco see Voldemort's viewpoint to try to bring him back to the dark side."

Tonks nodded again. "That explains a lot, because Loophole Potion is extremely rare and hard to come by, not to mention insanely expensive, so the Malfoys, the Mecca of money as well as dark objects, would have no trouble getting it. The only problem is: Lucius is in Azkaban."

"He escaped once, what would stop him from doing it again?" Hermione noted.

"True… true. Come talk to me after lunch, I'm going to get in touch with some people and see if I can verify his presence in Azkaban or not."

Hermione agreed and rushed to the Great Hall. Not only was she starving, but she was also anxious to tell Ron and Harry what she'd learned.

She never made it to the Great Hall, though.

As she rounded the corner from the hall of the second story classrooms making her way to the staircase, a long, pale hand clasped over her eyes and another over her mouth, and she was knocked out with a wandless Stupefy curse.


	18. Search Party

Chapter Eighteen:

**Chapter Eighteen: Search Party**

Harry chewed his food slowly, keeping his gaze on the doorway. Hermione was about a half hour late for lunch already, and even if Ron hadn't mentioned it every two minutes during the entire meal, Harry still would have noticed.

Somehow he could feel in his gut that something was wrong. He didn't mention it, though, because he was sure that Ron would have a cow. Still, he lingered on the thought silently for the remaining twenty minutes that he and Ron sat at the Gryffindor table, wondering every second where she was.

He didn't know why he waited so long to go look for her, but when he finally did, it was with all the urgency that he had in him. He searched every known place of the castle – the library, the hospital wing, the classrooms, and her dormitory – that she might be found. After a while of searching, he had to go to his next class, so he abandoned his task and went towards the D.A.D.A classroom.

_Wait_, he realized as he walked through the doorway and saw Professor Tonks standing at the front of the classroom.

"Professor, have you seen Hermione?" he asked, trying to hide the urgency in his voice but failing pretty miserably.

"No, is everything alright?" she asked. "I was just going to ask you the same thing; she was supposed to meet me after lunch to talk about – "

"She's told you then?" Harry interjected. "About Malfoy?"

"Yeah, she has…" Tonks rubbed her stomach as she looked into the corner of the ceiling, thinking hard obviously. "And you haven't seen her?" she asked finally.

"No, I haven't since right before she had your class," Harry leaned in closer and whispered. He didn't want everyone in the world knowing about Hermione's disappearance, but he was getting rather worried.

"I'm going to go tell McGonagall," Tonks announced. "Hold down the class for me? Not that they'll notice I'm gone," she added.

Harry struggled to keep his breathing steady.

_Merlin, is this what Hermione felt like when I disappeared?_ He wondered, feeling slightly guilty. No matter how he looked at it, though, he knew it wasn't anything like what she'd felt. First, there was the male instinctive protection complex: he felt more protective of her than she was even able to feel of him. Second, there had been the possibility of something like this happening, and they were prepared for it. It didn't come as such a surprise. Third, oh third, was the fact that, no matter how hard he tried or told himself otherwise, Harry definitely felt something for Hermione that she didn't feel for him. It was this experience that made him know for sure that he was thinking of her as more than a friend.

Harry shared the news with Ron as soon as he could, and as he suspected, Ron didn't take it lightly.

"She WHAT?!" the redhead had yelled, his face almost the color of his hair.

"I know!" Harry joined. "But Ron, stop for one second," he calmed down. "Let's think of the possibilities."

"Harry, we don't have time!" Ron was still just as livid. He wasn't the most reasonable of people.

"Well, making a huge fuss isn't going to help anything at all," Harry said crossly. "We have to think about this logically. Who would take Hermione?"

"MALFOY!" Ron roared.

"No Ron, he couldn't have. He's in a comatose in the hospital wing – I saw him myself when I went there to look for her," Harry disagreed.

"Well, what about the slimy git, Malfoy Sr.?" Ron suggested.

"He's in Azkaban, Ron," Harry corrected.

"No, he's not!" they both heard from across the Common Room. It was Tonks, and she was rushing toward them frantically. "I've just confirmed – Lucius Malfoy has broken out of Azkaban. AGAIN," she added with more than a hint of frustration.

"Let's go, NOW!" Ron jumped to his feet and clutched his wand.

"Tonks – " Harry tried to plead with her.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she agreed, taking them both for surprise. "Come on, let's go!"

The three of them trotted down the corridors and right into McGonagall's office, spoke a few parting words with the Headmistress (who didn't seem to have a problem with the two boys coming along, either), and flooed directly to the Malfoy Manor.

Harry noticed immediately that the house was the same one he'd been in previously. Although it wasn't the same room, it was definitely just like the one he'd killed Voldemort in. High ceilings, lavish wall paper and window coverings, every inch of it oozing money and wealth. He gulped down a gasp and forced his breathing to remain calm. The memories flooded back more quickly than he could block them, and he was beginning to feel dizzy.

"This way!" Tonks called, and the boys followed her through a thick wooden doorway.

Draco opened his eyes, or rather, he opened his right eye, then his left, then both at the same time. He knew right away that he was back at Hogwarts, and he jumped to his feet out of the hospital bed. With a drop of his stomach, he realized that he was still in a foreign body – but this one was not the one he'd just been in. He felt the nose to make sure that it was free of snake-like slits, and drew his long fingers along the even longer shaft of his nose. He looked at his hands, and realized with a start that they were the same hands – he was still Voldemort.

With a dawning dread, he came to understand that he was Tom Riddle – Voldemort before Voldemort existed. His stomach sank further and he felt himself losing control. He was sick there on the floor of the hospital wing, and within seconds, Madame Pomfrey was rushing in.

"Oh dear oh dear – Are you alright? You're awake! Fantastic! You're – " she cut off from her excited speech as she gasped sharply and backed away from him, as she'd been standing very close. "Tom?" she whispered as she reached a hand out to touch his face.

Draco hit her hand away. "I'm not Tom! I'm Draco! Madame Pomfrey, help me!"

She gasped again, apparently awakened from the memories she'd been experiencing, and backed away quickly until she was at a proper distance from him. She straightened her uniform as said, "I'm doing all I can, dear. Just calm down." It seemed to Draco that her words were more directed towards herself, as she began then to take deep breaths and occupy herself with making his bed.

"Doing all you can, how?" Draco asked, not masking the skeptical tone in his voice.

"Well, seeing as I don't know what's wrong with you, I can't do more than make sure you don't leave and hurt yourself or – "

"Madame Pomfrey," said a voice that came from the doorway. The both looked and saw a worried-looking Professor McGonagall. "Oh my," she breathed as she came to get a closer look. She, as Madame Pomfrey had, also reached her hand out to touch Draco's face. He didn't dare slap his headmistress' hand, so she placed her hand on his cheek freely. When he flinched, however, she lowered it quickly and returned to her usual snappy manner.

"This seems to be worse than I thought it would be," she commented. "Mr. Malfoy, are you feeling alright?" she asked him genuinely.

"I feel strange, but okay. Professor, do you know what's…."

"Yes, I think that Professor Tonks has figured it out. She's almost certain that you've been given the Draught of Porousity. It's a strange potion and I'm not sure that I fully understand the effects, but she assures me that all of your symptoms correlate with what the potion is supposed to do."

"Can I speak with her, then?"

The headmistress shook her head sadly. "Sorry, Draco, but Professor Tonks is unavailable right now – "

Draco lost his concern for manners. "Where is she? How am I supposed to be healed?" he interrupted.

"Professor Tonks is… well, I don't suppose it would hurt to tell you. She has gone out to try to retrieve Miss Granger. The girl has seemed to have gone missing, and the three of them think they know where she is," McGonagall explained.

"MISSING?" Draco exclaimed. Despite his preoccupation with himself (which was even stronger than usual at the moment), he felt a twinge of pain at the thought that she might be hurt. "Wait, you said the 'three of them'?"

"Yes, that is, Professor Tonks, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley," McGonagall clarified.

_Oh great, the dream team is going along_, Draco thought bitterly. He told himself that if it weren't for his dizzy state, he'd have gone along, too. But he was only kidding himself, he wouldn't be caught dead going anywhere like this.

"Well has Professor Tonks told you anything about, maybe getting me out of this wretched body?" Draco finally shot at his headmistress.

"As a matter of fact, yes, she has – now Draco this is going to sound more than a little bit peculiar, but it seems that the easiest, as well as most effective, way is to bathe in a substance that your object of imitation detests. Now I have a few ideas but – "

"A love potion!" Draco announced. "Voldemort hates love, Potter already proved that he can even be killed by it, so a love potion would be perfect!"

For no apparent reason, Professor McGonagall did the strangest thing just then. A dark, if not furious blush rose into her wrinkled cheeks and she sputtered, "I think we'll have to find a better way."

Draco stared at her, unable to voice any complaints because of the overwhelming confusion that had set upon him.

"It's no use!" Harry huffed as they searched the dungeon for the hundredth time in the past two hours.

"Tonks, there has to be somewhere else he's hiding her," Ron agreed. "There is no trace of Hermione, or Lucius Malfoy for that matter, in this whole gigantic house!"

"I know, this is looking grim boys. Do you have any other ideas? Any other places that Draco has mentioned that their family vacations frequently or – "

"Professor," Harry said calmly. "We don't know a thing about Draco Malfoy, except that we hate him just as much as we hate his father."

"Well Harry, that doesn't seem so wise, now does it?" Tonks frowned at him accusingly. "If you don't know a thing about him, how can you know if you hate him or not?"

"We know he's a spoilt brat!" Ron snapped. "And that he has been giving us hell for the past seven years!"

"People change," Tonks huffed as she continued to walk through the dungeon, shining the light from her wand into every crevice. The two boys stared at her, dumbstruck and unable to see why in the world she would be defending Malfoy. They couldn't possibly know that it was because she'd seen Malfoy and Hermione snog each other only a couple months before.

"She's going more bonkers by the second," Ron remarked as they began to follow her.

"Let go of me, you ugly bastard!" Hermione screamed with a shrill note into her capturer's ear.

"You don't know that I'm ugly. For all you know I could be the most handsome bastard in the entire universe," he drawled in a familiar way. Hermione would have been able (if she hadn't already known who it was) to identify him simply by hearing his voice.

She screamed again and bit his hand, which was still covering her mouth from after he'd removed the spell.

"Ugh, filthy Mudblood bitch!" Lucius cursed as he pushed her against the wall and turned his attention to his throbbing hand. She seized the opportunity.

"Don't call me a Mudblood, you arrogant asshole!" she screamed as she kicked him hard in the groin. He winced and doubled over in pain before lunging on her unexpectedly and pinning her to the hard, wooden ground.

"I'll call you whatever I want to, you little whore!" he hissed, his mouth so close to hers that she was close to vomiting up whatever it was that she'd last eaten.

He saw the discomfort in her countenance and used it to his advantage, and Hermione screamed again as he got even closer to her.

"What's wrong Granger? You don't like this position?" he teased vilely. "Then maybe you could tell me the one you like better. Let's use the one that you did when you fucked my son, shall we?"

"Get off me you filthy son of a bitch!" she cursed as she wriggled to get free from under him. Hermione felt with immense disgust the hardness of Lucius pressing on her thigh, and the terror that filled her in that moment was worse than any she'd ever felt before.

"So you don't deny it, then?" he purred like a dying cat. "You did sleep with him?"

"I didn't do anything!" she lied as she got her right arm free and punched his left bicep with her fist as hard as she could. He didn't even flinch.

"LIAR!" he roared as he slapped her face violently into the floor.

What happened then was more than Hermione could take, and after vomiting all over herself and him, she lost consciousness.

_Sorry for the disturbing last scene. I really didn't want to write it but it had to happen._


	19. Escape

Chapter Nineteen: True Love

**Chapter Nineteen: Escape**

Lucius Malfoy lifted himself off the unconscious girl, thoroughly disgusted with himself but even more disgusted with her. He wondered momentarily what had caused him to do such a thing, to a filthy Mudblood no less, and he had to convince himself that it was only because of the awful stress on him lately.

He showered. He did it the Muggle way, too, not taking any magic shortcuts as he'd come accustom to during his years at the peak of his political and social standing. No, this time he really cleaned himself, mostly because he felt like he had to, after what just happened.

Little did he know that while he was taking his time in his relaxing shower, forgetting his worries and responsibilities, the girl was stirring from her place on the floor and regaining consciousness.

Hermione smelled herself immediately, unable to do anything else just yet. Then, when her olfactory senses were unable to focus on the putrid-ness any longer, she lifted herself up into a sitting position and opened her eyes. She took in the scene, and was very surprised to see that she wasn't in a dungeon or anything like it. The room was small and empty, with wooden floors of high class and a low comfortable ceiling. She located a single window in the corner opposite herself, and looked out to the view. It was snowing.

Snow, that meant not in England. By that time it had stopped snowing, and the snow was beginning to melt as spring entered in. But here, winter still reigned high. That meant somewhere north, far north. She decided immediately that she didn't care where she was, though, and not to waste time wondering. She clutched her wand tight in her hand as she stood next to the window, facing the only door in the room so that she would see if Lucius came back while she was trying to get out. Not that she thought he would. No one would come back after that.

With her left hand, she tried to open the window. It was locked, and she tried to unlock it magically, but it was no use. This obviously was not some random Muggle place, it had magical protections. That meant that it didn't have Muggle protections, most likely, which meant that she would have to escape the Muggle way.

She didn't think about what had just happened as she went over her options. She was determined to get out, and to never remember that again. The still wet vomit on her face and in her hair along with the bruises and blood on her body and her torn clothes were her reminders, but she forced all thoughts out of her brain.

She covered her fist in the corner of her coat and punched as hard as she could through the window. She felt her hand break at the same time the glass did, but she didn't acknowledge the pain. She pulled her small body through the window frame and ran.

She ran as fast as she could – no, she ran faster than she could. She almost felt like she was flying. As she ran, she felt the cold freeze the substances dry and crack, and her lips were cracking as well.

After she was completely unable to run any longer, she found a hollow cedar trunk to go in. It was covered in cob webs and insects, but she didn't care. She huddled under her coat and allowed herself the luxury of tears, and slowly fell asleep as the sun rose.

Draco rubbed his eyes, exasperated with his poor sleep and still unable to look at his own hands, much less himself in the mirror. It'd been a whole day that he'd been stuck in this vile body, and he was more anxious than anything to get out of it.

"Madame Pomfrey!" he called. After he did, he realized that he was completely unsure as to why he'd called her name, other than the sole fact that he wanted attention and she was in the prime position to give it to him.

"What is it, Draco?" she called in a tone that hardly masked her annoyance. He'd kept her up all night, whining and complaining every hour on the hour, and the old woman wasn't made to handle that kind of abuse.

"I – " he searched for something to tell her. "I'm hungry!" he yelled.

"Again? Mr. Malfoy you've eaten more than most people do in a week!"

"Well maybe being infested with the soul of the darkest wizard of all time wares down on a person," he remarked bitterly, knowing full well that she was right and he wasn't the least bit hungry.

"Malfoy," Tonks said as she entered the door of the hospital wing, flustered and out of breath, but looking rather excited anyways. That is, until she saw Draco and how he'd been transformed. Her face took on a ghostly white color, and her eyes got wide as saucers. He heard her gulp nervously.

"What is it Professor? Or weren't you expecting me to look this way?" he sneered. He hoped he wouldn't have to endure people looking at him like that much longer.

"No, I was expecting… I knew that you would… well, anyways, Draco, good news," she struggled to find words. At her last comment, however, Draco was all ears. "I've convinced McGonagall to let you brew in a love potion, like you suggested. She had some other ideas, like how Tom always hated milk with a strangely passionate attitude. But with convincing, she's seen the light."

"I knew the old hag would see that I was right," Draco mused. Tonks looked at him incredulously, obviously expecting him to grow a second head, but he just stared blankly at her for a minute or so. Finally, he asked her, "So when do we start?"

She swallowed and began a long explanation in which she expressed her concern over the dangers of a love potion at Draco's very "hormonal" age (she blushed while she said that part), and that it would be absolutely crucial to make sure the potion was not ingested by himself or anyone else. She also mentioned that they would be using the strongest potion available, which would mean that it would be hard to make.

"I can handle it," Draco boasted. "I've gotten top grades in Potions since first year."

"I know, Malfoy, but I was hoping you'd let someone else do it," Professor Tonks almost begged. "Just to make sure it comes out perfect."

"And you don't think I could do it perfectly?" he asked with his eyebrows raised.

"It's not that, it's just that… well, you wouldn't very much like to chop ingredients into little tiny pieces with those hands, would you?" she whispered.

Draco chanced a glance down at his hands and decided immediately that she was right. He didn't want to admit it, though, so he just scowled at the floor.

"I was thinking of Professor Slughorn," she went on, apparently convinced that she'd proven her point.

"Yeah, have him do it," Draco finally agreed. "Tell him to hurry."

Hermione woke and thanked God that she was still in the same place she'd been when she fell asleep. She knew that Lucius would've noticed her missing by now, as it seemed to be around noon, so she didn't leave the safety of the cedar yet. She tried to Apparate to Hogsmeade, but found that she was unable because of either a magical hindrance or because she was too shaken to perform such a task.

She thought fleetingly of Draco, and tried to push him out of her mind, but he wouldn't have it. She knew by then that it was definitely Lucius who'd caused whatever was happening with him, and she knew that Tonks would be taking care of it. But what she didn't know was _why._

Tonks had said that the Draught was used to give a new perspective, but what new perspective would Draco see in Voldemort's experiences? Did Lucius want to persuade Draco to take up Voldemort's actions, to pick up where he'd left off? Surely not. Surely Lucius knew that Draco would never do such a thing.

Merlin, who would at that point? Even if someone had magical abilities at the level that Voldemort had, they wouldn't have risked rising to power as an evil wizard at that time. If Voldemort was defeated, who wouldn't be?

Hermione wasn't naïve. She knew that there would always be dark magic, and always those who perform them. But she found peace in the thought that it would be a log time before anyone attempted again what Voldemort had done.

And that wasn't going to change just because Lucius showed Draco what it would be like to become Voldemort. Even Lucius would have known that.

Then, maybe, Lucius wasn't trying to make him rise to power as a dark wizard. Maybe, Lucius just wanted Draco to see what being a dark wizard was like and how powerful he had the option of becoming, so that he might come back to the dark side.

It was possible that all Lucius had aimed to do was recreate the twisted bonds that had once existed between himself and his son, in which case he would obviously have wanted Draco to share his opinions regarding Dark Arts.

And that would explain her involvement in the whole thing, too. Why he'd kidnapped her and all.

She shuddered to think of what else he'd planned on doing to her, and strange as it was to her, she felt grateful that he'd only done what he did. At least it wasn't the Cruciatus, or something that would make her go insane. At least he hadn't used the Imperius curse and made her do terrible things.

Hermione glanced outside the encasing, tired of thinking and anxious to get back to her escape. Anxious to get back to Hogwarts, where she could be safe.

The thought occurred to her that Hogwarts was where she'd been kidnapped, but she decided immediately to not let it ruin her sense of security there. Hogwarts was the safest place in all England, and just because Lucius Malfoy had managed to get in didn't mean he would be able to again, especially with what she had in mind for him.

The sunlight flooded her eyes as she emerged from the dark hiding place and surveyed the woods carefully.

"Harry, we've failed her, haven't we?" Ron said as the two of them flopped into their own beds after searching the whole night for her.

"We did all we could," Harry said, and Ron noticed a distinct lack of answer to his question.

"She's going to be okay, though," Ron said to Harry, but more so to himself. He said it so convincingly that he almost believed it wholly, too.

Of course she is, Ron!" Harry had a surprising burst of enthusiasm and sat up in his bed. He stared at Ron passionately and asked, "When was the last time Hermione got into a mess that she couldn't make it out of?"

Ron shrugged. Harry was right, of course. Hermione had made it through the barriers in their first year so that they could all reach the stone safely, of at least make it back to the hospital wing. She'd made it through the time she was petrified by a Basilisk and she even went after it again with them. She'd faced Sirius Black while they still thought he was a criminal, and she'd been a founding member of Dumbledore's Army. Her fighting at the Ministry of Magic was better than anyone else's in his opinion, and the event in the hallway at the headquarters had proved that belief.

Hermione was a strong girl. She could make it out of anything.

That is, if someone didn't use the killing curse on her first.

Ron's stomach flipped painfully at the thought.

"Harry, let's get some rest and then go looking for her again, okay?" Ron finally replied.

"Of course, Ron," Harry agreed as he laid back down in his bed.

"George!" Fred called loudly over the noise of the machines in their factory. "Oi George!"

"What'chu want?" he called back.

"Don't you reckon we should test this one before putting it on the shelves?" he asked, surveying the vast cauldron that brewed a thick pink potion.

"Fred, we've already tested it!" George reminded him. "Remember?"

A sinking feeling hit Fred in the stomach as he did, in fact, remember.

"Don't you think we should've checked up on it, though?" he asked, a bit worried.

"Nah, they're fine. We would've heard if something disastrous happened!" George confirmed.

"But George, we would've heard if _anything_ had happened at all!" he argued back.

He inwardly cursed his habit of being so careless. The potion should've been validated months before, and this was cutting it close.

"Well, I'll send an owl to Ginny, then. She'll let us know if Malfoy and Hermione have shacked up yet!"


	20. Back Home

Chapter Twenty: True Love

**Chapter Twenty: Back Home**

Ron woke well into the night, feeling more than a little bit guilty that he let himself rest that long. He glanced over to Harry's bed and saw him still intact in it. Knowing that he would be able to get there and back before Harry even stirred, he jumped up quickly and made his way to the Great Hall. His stomach's rumbling was the thing that woke him, and he thought it was necessary to get his fill before setting out on another search.

Upon entrance, he realized that the Hall was empty, which made sense because dinner was usually served until about eight or nine, and it was close to two hours later than that. Hope was not lost, though, as Ron's brothers had taught him a trick for times like these. He went over to the portrait of the fruit and opened it with ease, the smells of the delicious kitchen filling his nostrils and his brain.

"Dobby!" he called excitedly, knowing that the elf's presence would guarantee a score of feasts.

"Master Ron," Dobby greeted. "What brings you here to the kitchen?"

"Oh, Dobby, I just wanted to say hello. Thought it was rather rude of me to go so far this year without visiting you," he lied smoothly.

The House Elf smiled graciously and motioned towards a pair of small stools in the corner near the fireplace. As Ron sat down, the stool creaked and wobbled slightly under his weight, which was multiple times more than that of a large House Elf.

"Tell me what you and mister Potter have been doing this year," Dobby invited as he scurried around a few cupboards and drawers and returned with a tray full of breads, cheeses, and pastries.

Ron told him about his final year at Hogwarts and the things he'd been doing until the idea hit him. "Dobby, you were the Malfoy's House Elf!"

He frowned and Ron knew he didn't want to speak about it, but it was necessary.

"Dobby, tell me all of the Malfoy estates that you know of," Ron said. "Hermione has been kidnapped by Lucius and we have to find her!"

Dobby's large eyes filled with sadness as he thought of the girl who had made all of those nice hats for him to find. "Of course Dobby will help!" he exclaimed.

Hermione kept traveling through the night. She knew it was a long time before she would reach any city or town, and the forest was no place that she wanted to stay in. She trekked as far and long as she could before becoming exhausted again, and then she tried to find another hollowed tree to hide in, but she couldn't.

She had no choice. She had to keep moving even if it would kill her, because if she didn't, she would certainly be killed by frost bite and hunger or by Lucius Malfoy.

Stealthily creeping through the forest with as much speed as she was able, Hermione made her way through the forest with her broken and bloody hand wrapped in the inside of her cloak.

The sun finally rose and Hermione found herself on top of a hill, able to see down on all sides. She spotted a cabin near where the sun was rising and, despite her completely exhausted body, began running full speed right in that direction.

As she ran her body jostled the damaged hand, causing her intense pain. She blocked out all thoughts, though, and kept running through the thick layer of snow on the ground that had numbed her feet.

It was about a mile away, and without any rests the whole way, she was there in ten minutes. The tem most grueling minutes of her life, but still only ten minutes.

When she reached the cabin she banged frantically on the door, somehow thinking that if she knocked politely they wouldn't hear her. After knocking for about a minute straight, a frightened lady opened the door.

The sight of the woman was too much relief for Hermione. That scared wrinkly face meant her safety, her warmth, and her life. Her head swayed upon seeing the lady and she fell to the floor, the woman jumping back to avoid Hermione crushing her feet.

She felt a tapping on alternate sides of her face and she struggled to open her eyes. She realized that she had been moved to a softer place and covered with blankets – many blankets. Her blurry vision cleared and she saw a man kneeling next to her, his face covered by a white beard and mustache and his green eyes smiling kindly down at her.

"Hello," she said in a soft voice and a very thick accent. She struggled to decipher where she was by the sound of his voice, but the mental strain made her head ache and she decided to wonder about it later. Or she could just ask him.

"Hello sir," she said, she throat sore but still able to get words out huskily. "Where am I?"

"We're right smack in the middle of the ocean!" a woman called cheerily from in the kitchen. Hermione's heart jumped at hearing the American accent, knowing that she would be able to communicate with the woman.

"Excuse me, but what did you say?"

"She means to say that we are on an island," the man said. Hermione recognized his accent as being Russian, and she racked her brain for names of islands near Russia.

"It's called Svalbard," the lady said as she came to Hermione with a tray of hot chocolate.

"Thanks," Hermione said as she reached her right hand out to accept the cup.

"Let me," the woman said, and tipped the glass to Hermione's mouth. She felt the warm sweet liquid slide down her throat comfortingly and cleared her throat, now able to swallow again.

"Where is Svalbard?" Hermione asked after she drank more of the chocolate and felt more ready to get home.

"The island is located in the Arctic Ocean, between Russia and Greenland. We are near the city Longyearbyen," the man told her.

"I – I've never even heard of this place."

"What's your name, honey?" the woman asked.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she answered. She didn't know if she should tell them that, in case they were working with Lucius, but somehow she felt like she could trust them.

"Hermione Granger? What a unique name…" the lady said. "I'm Betty Davis, and this is Sergei Vyacheslav – Well, you just call him Sergei."

"Thank you both – Sergei and Betty," Hermione said.

"Listen, Hermione," Betty said. "You're a mess. I'm not going to ask how you got out here without knowing where you are – your business if your own business. But dear, at least let me get you cleaned up."

Hermione looked down at her cloak, covered in frozen vomit, blood, and tears. She left hand was throbbing painfully still, and she knew it needed medical attention. "Yes, please," she agreed. "Can you do anything for my hand?"

"I don't know what I can do, but there's a medical station not five miles from here – Sergei can drive you after you wash up."

Hermione agreed and followed Betty into the small bathroom. Betty ran a bath and told Hermione that she would leave her to get undressed and into the tub before she came back to get the dirty clothes. Hermione struggled with her one hand to undress herself for almost ten minutes before she had to call Betty back in.

"I'm sorry – I just, I can't do it with only my right hand," she said, almost in tears.

"It's no problem dear, I'll just shut my eyes and help you out," Betty said kindly. It went faster then, and Hermione stepped into the tub, hoping that Betty had kept her promise to keep her eyes closed so that she didn't see all of the bruises and cuts on her body. She didn't want her feeling even sorrier for her than she already did.

She soaked in the bath for a while, letting herself relax for the first time in two days. She dunked her head to get all of the filth out of her hair, but immediately regretted it. The water around her body swirled with red and brown, contaminating the rest of the water. Hermione wished more than anything to be in her own bathtub at Hogwarts, with all of the colored bubble taps and magical charms to keep the water from becoming murky and cold.

All of the sudden Hermione gasped and searched the room for her wand. Thinking of Hogwarts had reminded her that she'd forgotten to remove it from her coat pocket – and on top of that she remembered the pin on her coat that said "Hermione Granger: Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry" and had a Gryffindor seal on it.

Hermione slapped herself in the forehead for being so daft. Now these two perfectly nice Muggles would think that she was crazy. Not that they already didn't, what with her showing up at their home from the middle of nowhere, having no idea where she was, and covered in all sorts of vile materials. Hermione slumped back into the water, the line coming just beneath her eyes, and sighed heavily. There was nothing else she could do, she just had to hope that neither of them examined her things very thoroughly.

After another half hour Betty came into the bathroom with her hand covering her eyes.

"Dear, if you're about ready I have some spare clothes here and we can go to work on that hand of yours," she said.

"Uhm, yeah I'll be right out… you can leave the clothes there on the toilet," Hermione said, walking on eggshells and hoping that Betty didn't mention her wand or her cloak.

Betty did leave the clothes, and with that she backed right out of the room. Hermione drained the water and rinsed herself off before using some soaps and hair products and then stepping out of the tub.

She was surprised that these two had clothes that fit her, but she was thankful nonetheless. The jeans were thick and warm with the long underwear underneath, and the t-shirt and sweaters were soft and snuggly. Hermione felt a hundred times better after drying off and putting them all on, and she stepped tentatively into the hallway a few minutes later.

Sergei was sitting on the sofa sipping some coffee and Betty was nowhere to be seen, but Hermione figured she was washing the filthy clothes or something like that.

"Are you ready?" he asked vaguely and Hermione realized that he was talking about the ride to the medical station.

"Oh, yes, I am. Is Betty going to come with us…?" she replied.

"She will stay here," he answered. Without any other words, they were in a big blue truck (in the American style, which Hermione found fascinating – the wheel on the left and all) and treading through snow-covered roads.

They didn't talk much in that truck. For some reason Hermione felt like he was uncomfortable, so she tried making conversation.

"So where did these clothes come from?" she asked politely. She regretted her question immediately when his face fell into a frown and his eye appeared to well up with tears. She didn't know what she could possibly do, but he finally answered her.

"They were my daughter's," he said gruffly. "Our daughter, Betty and I. Her name was Katherine."

Hermione looked at her hands and stayed silent for the rest of the ride. She was completely unsure of what to say to him, now knowing that she was wearing his deceased daughter's clothing.

The pulled into a shopping center about ten minutes later and Hermione was thankful to be out of the car for multiple reasons. He motioned to a small building to the far right and then started walking that way.

The clinic was small and empty, the only people in it were the doctors and nurses. Hermione was seen by a young male doctor, who also had a large beard covering his whole face. He had warm eyes, and Hermione appreciated that.

"Well, what do we have here?" he asked her, smiling.

"My hand is hurt," she answered, and pulled it out from the inside of her jacket to show him. It was still bleeding a lot, and she couldn't move any of her fingers or anything.

"What did you do?!" he exclaimed.

Hermione looked from him to Sergei and back again before answering. "I punched through a window," she told him without looking in his eyes. She didn't want him to ask more questions.

"Let me see…" he said as he held it tenderly. "How long ago was this?"

"About a day and a half," Hermione answered.

"Day and a half, hmm…" The doctor was American too, and he would repeat everything she said. It was rather peculiar. Hermione wished for the millionth time that day to be with magical people again. Madame Pomfrey would heal her hand in a second.

After quite a long time, he looked up from his gaze at her left hand. "I'm going to put braces on each of your fingers and then a cast on your hand and wrist to help heal the bones in your hand," he said before he lowered it carefully and then bustled around the room. Hermione felt herself begin to cry unwillingly and she wasn't sure really what happened after that.

The next thing she knew she was riding back to the cottage in that big American truck, and this time she didn't make the mistake of attempting conversation.

When they returned, Betty welcomed each of them with warm sweet liquids and carrot cake. Hermione thanked her, feeling a little better.

"Hermione, I've got your clothes all ready for you if you'd like to change back into them," she mentioned while Hermione was eating. She looked up and her eyes connected with sad green ones. Hermione nodded and thanked her again. That was becoming an extremely common occurrence.

After eating, the woman showed her to her clothes and left her to change into them. If the other clothes were comfortable, hers were heavenly. The fabric softener that Betty had used on them was amazing and they felt like warm clouds on her skin. She was beginning to get very tired, and decided that she wanted to go home before the night was over.

She reached her hand into the pocket and her fingers closed comfortingly around her wand. She left it in her pocket and returned to the two of them in the dining room.

"Betty, Sergei, thank you both for everything…" she said sincerely, but somewhat unsure of what exactly to tell them.

"You're going then?" Betty asked knowingly.

"I think I will," Hermione agreed.

"Would you like us to drive you down to the city? How are you going to get home?"

"I – No thank you. You've done so much already," Hermione tried not to answer the question.

"Are you sure dear? It's far…"

"I'm sure. Thank you both, I – I would have died…" she felt herself begin to cry again. The old woman stood and wrapped her arms around Hermione warmly, and Sergei stood and hugged her lightly afterwards.

"We are glad to help, miss," he told her.

She wiped her eyes frantically and smiled at the couple before heading out the door. She walked only for about a minute before going behind a tree and Apparating herself to Hogsmeade, and this time she successfully ended in her destination. She took in the familiar surroundings and felt herself cry harder as she ran towards Hogwarts as fast as her legs would take her.

"Harry, wake up!" Ron shook his friend. He'd just returned from spending all night with Dobby, the elf telling him of every single place that the Malfoys traveled to on a regular basis.

"Ron, what is it?" Harry sprung from his bed in less than a second, already looking eager to go.

"I've got a list of all the places – " Ron started, but closed his mouth and turned around when he heard a noise at the door.

"Hermione!" the two boys screamed in unison. They embraced her tightly as she cried on their shoulders, and then Harry stepped away for Ron to get his own hug.

Hermione told them everything that had happened, except the part about Lucius – well, she just didn't tell the extremely gruesome parts. She didn't want her friends to immediately go on a vendetta for her sake, and she knew there would be no stopping them if they knew the truth.

They walked her to the hospital wing while she ended her story, and then she remembered about Malfoy.

"Listen guys, can I go in alone? I don't want Madame Pomfrey to think it's a big deal," she explained. Her heart beat faster and faster as she opened the door and stepped inside but then – empty.

Draco wasn't in his bed, or anywhere else in the room. Her mind reeled, but she didn't have time to react because Madame Pomfrey was already on her way out of her office and over to Hermione.

"Miss Granger what happened to you!?" she explained, throwing her hands into the air.

Hermione retold the story again, saying the same things she'd said to Harry and Ron but with less detail. The healer nodded her head and worked to get all of the restraints off of her hand while she spoke.

Madame Pomfrey handed her a familiar potion, the same one she'd taken when her arm broke over the summer.

"You'll have to take quite a bit of this dear, but it'll do just fine."

"Thank you Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said as she laid in the same bed that Draco had been in and tipped the potion all the way back and let it roll down her throat. It was hot and disgusting, but she forced herself to drink every last drop before putting the empty bottle on the bedside table. She felt her hand tingling immediately and closed her eyes as the potion took effect and started mending her bones.

She was allowed to leave the hospital wing that night, but only because she had adamantly wished to sleep in her own bed that night. Every single step to her room made her heart beat faster and faster. She couldn't describe the feeling in the pit of her stomach, but somehow she thought that the mere sight of Draco Malfoy would make everything perfect again.

She stepped through the portrait hole quickly and was practically running by that point as she approached Draco's room. She knocked on the door four times and didn't wait for a reply.

When she stepped in the room, she was entirely surprised to see Draco stark naked in a tub full of bright red potion, all back to normal except for the fact that he was sleeping.


	21. True Love

Chapter Twenty-One:

**Chapter Twenty-One: True Love**

"Harry," he heard from the doorway to his dorm. "Hey Harry it's me."

He looked up and saw a familiar feminine form, the moonlight shining just enough to illuminate her fiery red hair. Her appearance created a jolt deep inside his stomach and he bolded upright, completely awake as if he'd never been sleeping.

"Ginny," he breathed. "What is it?"

"I need to talk to you," she told him, not coming any closer. He took that as a hint that she wanted him to follow her out the room, so her got out of bed and did just that.

As they traveled down the stairs into the Gryffindor common room, Harry racked his brain for reasons that she would need to speak with him. They hadn't spoken two words to each other since he broke it off with her the year before, and his stomach got all twisted to even hear her speak to him. He noticed that he was shaking.

She sat down on a plush sofa and motioned for him to sit next to her, and on her left side she lifted a piece of parchment from the end table. She glanced over its contents with a worried look on her face and then waved the paper to Harry.

_Gin,_

_We've got a favor to ask. Have you noticed any strange behavior from either Malfoy or Hermione? Even more, have they been spending more time together?_

_You see the thing is, we needed to test a love potion that we created (it's called True Love and it'll be in a store near you by June 5__th__), so we decided to test it on Hermione and Malfoy._

_We would've done Hermione and Ron, or You and Harry or something –_ Harry's stomach leaped to think of him and Ginny together again _– but we needed a pair that mortally hated each other to prove that it was really the potion and not just the people falling in love._

_We gave it to them at dinner, the first night that Malfoy spent with the Order. It would have started slowly, that's how the potion functions, and then it would have worked itself into a burning love everlasting. That's what it's supposed to do, anyways. _

_Have they? Fallen in love, that is?_

_We really need to know, Gin, please owl us as soon as you can._

_Love, Your Favorite Brothers,_

_Fred & George_

Harry put the parchment in his lap and stared down at it. After about a minute of this, Ginny turned in her seat towards him.

"What'll we do, Harry? Do we just go up to Hermione and tell her that it's been fake this whole time?"

"But wait Ginny, Hermione and Malfoy aren't dating anymore. They broke up a while ago," Harry countered.

"No they didn't, you big oaf. She loves him, for real or only because of the potion. And he loves her too," Ginny said convincingly.

"But how do you know? You don't even spend time with us anymore," Harry said, letting more bitterness come out than he realized.

"I just know, okay Harry? I know these things."

Harry stared at her, her eyes wide and all-knowing, her hair framing her beautiful face softly. She skin was so fair and soft-looking. Before he even knew what he was doing, Harry lifted his hand to brush her cheek. She backed away after he made contact and closed her eyes.

"Please Harry, don't do this to me," she said through a knot in her throat. She opened her eyes again and looked determinedly at him, making him want to look away but at the same time completely unable.

"Ginny," he whispered, but didn't know what else to say. He felt his arm reach around her waist without him willing to do so, and felt her melting into his arms. He put his palm on her round chin and lifted her face to meet his. She continued staring at him, but her determination was faltering. She broke their eye contact and looked down at her hands.

"Harry. I'm with someone else…"

"I know," he nodded, and released her from his grasp with a pang of torment in his chest.

They went to Hermione's room without speaking any more, but the tension between them had changed. It was no longer uncomfortable, but instead thick with longing and the knowledge that it just wasn't possible.

Hermione heard them knocking as she stepped out of the shower, and she ran down the stairs to let them in. She thought that it must have been something important, for someone to be there so early in the morning.

She wrapped herself in a towel and, dripping wet, she rushed to greet the visitor.

"Harry!" she said, surprised. "And Ginny!" she said even more surprised. "What are you two doing here?"

"Hermione, we think that something's happened – " Harry said, but Ginny cut him off.

"Read this," she said as she stepped into the Head's common room and handed Hermione the letter from Fred and George.

Hermione was shocked. She sat dripping wet on the green sofa next to the empty fireplace and opened the letter. It was short, but everything was included. Her stomach sank.

"Ginny," she breathed. "What do I do?"

"You're still with him?" Harry gaped at her.

Hermione nodded, feeling ashamed, and then turned back to Ginny.

"Hermione," the girl said. "I'm so sorry…"

"Doesn't matter," Hermione lied. "I don't want to be part of a relationship based on a potion. This means that… that our feelings aren't even real?"

Ginny nodded understandingly. "I think they'll probably have some way of equaling out the potion. It's supposedly "everlasting", but they'll have a cure, right?"

"I suppose…" Hermione agreed.

"You can use Hedwig to owl them," Harry said. He seemed a little angry, but not as much as Ron would have been.

"Thanks Harry," Ginny said as Hermione handed her a small piece of parchment and a quill.

"_Dear Fred and George_," Ginny said out loud as she wrote.

_Your potion works very well. Put it on the shelves!_

_In the mean time, Hermione wants a cure, so please send it if you have one._

_Love, _

_Ginny Weasley_

_P.S. If you don't have a cure, you better start working on it now!_

"That should do it," Ginny said as she folded the letter up.

"I'll go with you to the Owlry," Harry said to Ginny. They both stood and began to leave the room.

"Wait, Ginny!" Hermione called. Once the redhead turned to face her, Hermione asked, "Can I keep Fred and George's letter?"

Ginny nodded in the way that she often did, showing that she understood exactly what Hermione was thinking.

Note in hand, Hermione headed up to Draco's room, completely unsure of what to tell him. She knocked on the door and then let herself in.

The familiar scene filled her eyes as she swelled with emotion. Draco had been sitting in this tub for two weeks, unable to leave the potion for even a second because if he did, the Draught would take effect immediately. He'd missed countless classes, and even with all the studying he was doing in the tub, he was missing out on a lot. He was bored, too, far too bored for his own good. He wasn't the type that could survive in a bathtub for two weeks straight.

"Hermione," he smiled as she came in. She didn't visit him that often because she was studying hard for N.E.W.T.s, but when she did it was the only company he got.

"Draco," she said back. She kneeled beside him and ran her fingers along his cheek tenderly. She wanted so badly to be able to kiss him, but if she did she would ingest that love potion, too, and then there would be no hope for them.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, bringing his own hand up to cup her face. She bit her lip to keep from crying, but it didn't help much.

"Draco," she forced herself to say. "It's all fake."

He frowned at her, very confused. "Hermione, what are you talking about?"

She handed him the parchment and as his fingers soaked the paper with red, Hermione's tears began to run silently down her face.

"It's not true," he said, and tore the paper to shreds, letting it fall into the shining potion. "Hermione?" he asked hopefully.

"Draco…" She sobbed. The sight of his worried face and his own tears welling in his eyes made her even more uncontrollable. "I told them to send a cure."

He nodded. She could tell that he was thinking it all over. He swallowed hard and then said, "Does it matter?"

Hermione shook her head. "Draco, don't," she told him firmly. "This is fake, all of this. We don't actually feel this way… Isn't it wrong to feel something that you wouldn't naturally feel?"

"But Hermione, what if I want to feel this way?" he questioned, letting tears roll out of his eyes now. She bit her lip again and thought hard, searching for an answer.

"Sorry Draco," she said finally. "I can't be with you knowing it's all a lie."

He nodded and licked his lips, tasting the salty tears on them.

Hermione decided then to do something to end everything. She dropped the towel that had been wrapped around her, emitting a loud gasp from Draco. She stepped into the tub with him, welcoming the warm liquid all around her body. She curled herself on his stomach and held him, and he held her back.

They stayed like that for some time before Draco started to run his fingers up and down her spine softly. The motion sent chills down her body. She moved her hands to his chest, where she stroked his skin under the red surface of the water. His eyes were closed and she could see that he was enjoying himself.

She uncurled her legs and wrapped them around his middle, bringing herself closer to him. His hands rested firmly on her hips and he started inching her down slowly.

She was breathing shallow now, and he was too. She could feel a core deep inside of her stomach pulsing, and all of the hot liquid around their bodies seemed close to boiling. He moaned her name quietly right before she reached the point of no return, and he pushed himself inside of her in one quick motion.

Just like the last time, she felt a jolt of electricity spark through her body and her eyes seemed unable to be opened. They moved in the potion, causing it to spill over the sides of the tub.

The muscles in his stomach were tensed, as were the ones in his arms, which were holding her ribs tightly. She opened her eyes when she realized that he was close, and immediately was shocked to see him. Suddenly he'd become a god, shining and glistening and beautiful. His pained and ecstatic expressions combined to create an image like nothing Hermione had ever seen, or could ever compare anything else to.

In that moment, the whole world stopped. Her heart stopped beating, her lungs stopped breathing, she just stared in awe at the beautiful creature before her. Then, as soon as it had started, it was over, and he relaxed beneath her with a soft sigh.

His arms closed around her as he held her tight to him, their bodies still connected as one.


	22. New Beginning

Chapter Twenty-Two: New Beginning

**Chapter Twenty-Two: New Beginning**

Hermione woke early in the morning with sleep still lingering in her eyes, but somehow feeling like going back to bed would be a bad idea.

She flopped off of her four-post bed unceremoniously, taking no time to slip her feet into slippers or run a comb through her hair. She rubbed her eyes groggily as she headed towards her private bathroom and pushed the door open. Light flooded in from the privacy windows up near the ceiling, illuminating her face in the mirror that hung over the sink.

"Bloody awful," she said out loud to her reflection. "You look like you've been run over by a truck."

Sadly, she was only being slightly exaggerating, as she very well did look like she could have been at least hit by a truck, if not run over lightly. Her hair was literally everywhere, surrounding her head like a massive tumbleweed. Her eyes weren't red or puffy, but held a sort of hollowness that she only figured would go away with time. Her cheeks were regaining their former shape, as she'd put on a little of the weight that she'd been losing for so long, but were devoid of any color or vitality.

She bore her teeth to the mirror and at least could admit that they were well enough. They shined white, probably on account of her parents' profession and her very strict oral hygiene, and combined with her teeth-renewing incident a couple years back, their shape was satisfactory as well. She shrugged and took out her toothbrush and paste and began scrubbing away, figuring that she might as well take care of the assets she actually had.

As she was spitting out the last remains of toothpaste into the sink, there was a knock at her door. She went to open it and wasn't all that surprised to find Ron waiting for her.

"Hey Hermione," he said brightly. "How are you on this fine morning?"

"Hello Ron," she didn't even attempt to match his enthusiasm. "I'm alright."

He took a step closer and put his arm around her. "You sure?" he asked, looking into her eyes sweetly.

"Quite," she responded. And she wasn't lying, either. She'd stopped lying to Ron by now.

After taking Fred & George's remedy potion exactly a week before, she'd been stripped of her romantic feelings for Draco Malfoy, and was once again feeling more like herself. She was able to eat freely without guilt, and for that reason was able to gain a slight amount of weight, which made her feel healthier and more energized. She was even beginning to find happiness in Ron's affection for her, even if she didn't quite share his feelings as strongly.

The boy bent down to kiss her forehead softly. "Good," he said. "Because I want today to be the best day of your life."

Hermione smiled at his gesture, feeling a little better about the events of the night before.

She'd been the tool in catching Lucius Malfoy, and this time the Ministry wasn't taking any chances. Old Scrimgeour had rounded up a few of the remaining Dementors and had effectively put an end to Lucius' life as he knew it. The bastard was still alive, but with his soul gone, he was nothing more than a vegetable. Now, this was all well and good, but Hermione hadn't cared much to see it happen herself.

Rufus Scrimgeour, being the slightly eccentric Minister that he was, had insisted that Hermione witness the proceedings, for one reason to put the past behind her. The Minister didn't know the whole truth, as no one other than Hermione and Lucius (before the draining, anyway) did, but he knew enough to think it wise that she had some closure.

And she did feel better knowing that he would never be after her again. She felt more secure now than she had since he'd escaped the first time.

Ron was still cradling her in his arms affectionately, and Hermione was finding herself more and more comfortable by the minute. Sadly, he had to let go, because she was in need of a shower before the day began.

"Hermione, have you taken the potion yet today?" he asked before leaving the room. She seethed at his question, but calmed herself because she knew that he was just being protective.

"No, Ron, not yet," she smiled. "I'm about to right now."

That was the only downside to all of this. Being that the "True Love" potion was literally everlasting, both Hermione and Draco had to take daily remedy potions to override it. It wasn't a huge deal, though. It was like taking a vitamin. A vitamin that made you feel like your whole body had been drained of all blood, and your skin had become rice paper.

_Or maybe,_ Hermione speculated as she stepped under the flowing water of her shower. _Maybe it's the lack of love flowing through my veins that makes me feel so incredibly horrendous._

If I have to sit in this goddamn tub for one more goddamn day…Draco slammed an open palm on the edge of the bathtub that he'd been sitting in for two weeks straight. Professor Tonks had been horribly incorrect about the potion being a permanent solution, and was supposedly working day and night to find a real one, but Draco didn't believe her.

He didn't like admitting it, but he knew how smart Professor Tonks was. He'd seen flashes of her genius in moments during class and outside of it, too. He knew she could find a solution, and he knew it could have happened by now if she'd been working on it the whole time. But it didn't, so therefore she hadn't, and Draco hated her for that.

She didn't know how terrible it was for him, trapped in this ceramic bowl of red potion, his skin soaking in it endlessly, his limbs going numb for days on end. No one understood how helpless he felt – how helpless he was – lying here in this tub of torture, unable to get out for even a few minutes. If he got out, his body would (not slowly, mind you) morph back into Voldemort's young body, with those long sickly fingers and that raven hair.

And Draco was sure that no one knew the worst part – the part where he was still having flashes into Voldemort's memory (was it possible to have a memory once one was dead?) – because he hadn't told anyone. He wasn't even sure why he hadn't, except for the fact that the occurrence scared him so badly that he was afraid to tell anyone.

Draco wasn't the most brave of men. He was actually rather cowardly – and he knew it full well. He was raised that way, being able to take the easy way out all the time. Being used to doing whatever he bloody pleased and not having to pay consequences. The time when that horrid rat Pettigrew had used the Cruciatus on him had been terrifying enough, but actually using it (or having the visions of it anyways) on other people was intensely more terrifying. He'd killed countless people while he slept every night for the past two weeks, and it had gotten to the point long ago where the visions didn't go away once he was conscious. Oh, sure, the Voldemort-possession of his mind did, but the flashes of scared eyes and green light were incessantly popping up all throughout the day.

And the worst part of all of it was, Draco had nothing to do other than sit and think about it all. Sure, he had homework, but that was all gone after a couple hours of sitting and working non-stop. Then he was left for the rest of each day to brew – literally – with his thoughts.

And now, on top of it all, this goddamn bloody potion that the had to drink every goddamn bloody morning… Draco's anger boiled at the thought of it. The potion had actually made (if this is possible at all) his already very white skin even whiter, almost translucent now. It created a very deep sense of hollowness in him that he couldn't describe, even if he'd had someone to describe it to. He didn't feel anything towards Hermione anymore, except a no-longer familiar feeling of annoyance at the thought of her. He didn't feel that spark of passion that he'd felt before, and the emptiness filled him to the brim.

Draco felt a tightness in his bladder that meant he would have to step outside the tub momentarily, and even for such a menial task, it was exciting. He heaved his sopping wet body out and padded painfully to the toilet, the pain coming from his unused muscles crying out in protest. He did what he needed to do and then wasted no time in getting back into the tub. He lowered himself into the liquid and felt even more hopeless and pathetic.

_Hermione,_

_Sorry about using you as a guinea pig, I'm sure you understand though. You know, sacrifices for the cause of science and all that. _

_Really though, we hope everything's alright, and let us know if this remedy potion works well enough._

_Sincerely,_

_Fred & George_

Hermione read the letter again, probably for the millionth time since receiving it the week before. This time, though, she was going to write a reply. After another terrible day of feeling absolutely horrendous, she was just about ready to tell them off for ruining her whole entire life.

She chewed on the end of the quill thoughtfully, thinking of how best to state her feelings while getting the point across civilly. She dipped it in the ink and brought it in contact with the paper.

_Fred and George Weasley,_

_I got your remedy and have been using it for a week now. It works –_

She had to stop writing because there was a knock at her door, and she dropped the pen angrily as she went to see who it was.

Not that she didn't already know who it was, though. Ron had been visiting her every second of every day the past week, and she had no reason to think that he would stop now. She put on her happy face (which wasn't as opaque as she'd like it to have been) and went to receive him.

"Hey Hermione," he greeted, cheerful as usual.

"Hi Ron, what's up?" she mimicked his attitude.

"Oh nothing, just thought I'd come by and say hello," he strode past her and sat in the middle of her bed. She followed him.

"Well hello, then," Hermione responded with a fake smile, but Ron obviously was fooled by her front. He grinned back and wrapped his arms around her, pulling the both of them down with their backs on the bed. He rolled on top of her and smiled again, more deviously this time.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh a little at his expression, and it was a good thing that he was in a good mood because he laughed right back, thinking that she was laughing _with_ him, not _at _him, when she was doing just that in reality. He looked ridiculous, all trying to be seductive and everything.

He kissed her then. He hadn't actually kissed her since the time they had the picnic near the lake, and it was (if possible) even more awkward than it was before. Both times previously had been in the moment of intense emotions, fear, sadness, anger… This time he just wanted to kiss her, and the lack of passion in the air created a strange withdrawal.

Their teeth clashed a little as he came down, and then he began kissing her intensely, and a bit sloppily as well. Hermione kissed him unwillingly, not completely sure of what else to do and even more unwilling to create an argument or hurt his feelings.

After a little while it got more passionate, on Ron's side anyways. He was moving in every which way and his tongue was all over Hermione's mouth… She wasn't feeling the same way he was, unfortunately. While he was wriggling around on top of her, she was hoping that he would stop eventually.

She couldn't take it much longer, so she gradually stopped moving her mouth, hoping her would get the point and come us for air himself, but tragically he got a much worse notion. He moved away from her mouth and started trailing his sloppy way down her neck and right under her ears which, in other circumstances Hermione had loved, but now she was quite repulsed by.

She didn't know what to do, though. She couldn't very well push him off, could she? She wasn't even sure if she would have, anyways. She sort of shut herself down then.

She closed off all feelings, just wishing over and over that he would stop getting his slobbery mouth all over her. She just kind of started crying. Not real crying, though.

She was crying without tears. Without really even crying at all, but with all of the feelings. She sobbed dryly, which Ron mistakenly took for a moan of pleasure.

He attacked her mouth then with even more messy passion and franticness, chewing her lip slightly before shoving his tongue into he mouth again. With a shock, Hermione felt him moving his hand down to the hem of her skirt. She felt his sweaty fingers sliding themselves between her skin and her clothes slowly, and she couldn't do it any longer.

She grabbed his hand and pulled it back up away from where it had been, and used his surprised gasp to move her mouth away from his.

"Ron, sorry but – "

"No Hermione, it's okay," he interrupted. "I was being pushy." He removed himself from on top of her (finally) and sat up on the bed, and Hermione did too. "I should go," he said, looking down at his lap.

"Ron I didn't mean – "

"Don't worry, I don't mind," he croaked, proving that he absolutely did mind.

"Sorry," Hermione mumbled before he walked out the door. She flung herself back down on the bed violently, wondering helplessly if she would ever crave that kind of touch again.


	23. Remedy

Chapter Twenty-Three: Remedy

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Remedy**

Nymphadora Tonks rose early that morning with the sole purpose of curing Draco Malfoy of his possession. The day was a Tuesday, June 5 to be exact, and the morning sun was already bringing sufficient warmth through the window of her bedroom.

She rubbed her slightly protruding belly lightly and tousled her bright pink hair with a hand before getting out of bed. She was almost two months along, and was just beginning to show. She smiled at the thought that people would soon be commenting left and right, and she would be able to tell everyone how amazing her life was and how happy she was to be having Remus' baby.

She didn't waste her time getting to work. It was nearly two hours before she needed to bathe and get ready for classes, so she immersed herself in studying for the whole time she could.

There was surprisingly little information about the Draught of Porousity in all of the books she could find, and that was very many. Only about ten of the nearly two hundred books contained even a sentence regarding the potion, and she spent her time pouring through those ten books to get as much information as she could.

She looked up at the clock and realized with a start that it was close to 7:00. Closing the book she was on with a snap, she got up and made her way to the shower.

_At least I have a little information for him_, she thought with an amount of pity for the trapped Slytherin.

Hermione sat in the Great Hall surrounded by her friends, feeling much better than she had in a while. As she was consuming her eggs and toast happily, Ron and Harry were vehemently discussing the odds of the Chudley Cannons winning against the Holyhead Harpies, which Ron thought were quite high but Harry renounced as codswallop.

"What do you think, Hermione?" Ron turned on her expectantly and shoved a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"Well Ron, I think – " she tightened her grip on his hand and smiled apologetically in Harry's direction. "that the Cannons are sure to win."

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "You really think so, Hermione?"

"Of course I do," she smiled playfully.

"Well, Ron, great choice, ask your girlfriend for advice even though you know full well that she doesn't know a bit about Quidditch," he smiled back at her.

"I resent that!" she pointed her fork at him. "I know a lot about Quidditch!"

"Of course you do, Hermione," Ron smiled down at her and gave her a quick peck on the lips.

Harry looked away at that moment, pretending that he was occupied with the sausage on his plate. Hermione saw his swing of emotion and scooted away from Ron slightly for Harry's comfort.

"So Harry, how are things with Ginny?" she asked purposefully. She had seen a growth in the time they spent together since the day that they came to her with Fred and George's letter.

Oh, Fred and George. Hermione couldn't help but feel a small amount of bitterness towards them, for not realizing how a love potion would affect her life, but she was trying to see things through their eyes. They really had picked the best candidates for the test, too. If the potion was able to make Hermione and Malfoy fall in love, anything was possible.

Hermione glanced over to the Slytherin table as she heard Harry's words going in one ear and out the other. It seemed that he was answering her previous question quite lengthily. Hermione's eyes settled on the missing place at the table, where Malfoy usually resided (until a month before, that is). She felt a familiar emotion stir up in her and realized with a start that she was feeling a strong sense of dislike toward the blonde Slytherin. The realization made her smile a little.

"Hermione, what are you smiling about?" Harry asked.

"Nothing, go on," she said so convincingly that he obliged without further argument.

"Well, that's it, really. We spend a lot of time together but she's still got her boyfriend in Ravenclaw, and nothing else is happening," he said dejectedly.

"I'm sorry, mate," Ron said. "She'll come around, you know."

"I hope so," Harry nodded, and shoved a bite of sausage into his mouth to keep him from having to say anything else.

Just then, a glorious owl hooted as it swung low and landed in front of Hermione. It held a letter on its leg and Hermione noticed the scrawl immediately from having read it so many times over the last few weeks.

"_Hermione_," the letters spelled.

She ripped open the seal and read the note quickly once, then slowly again.

_Hermione,_

_How are you? How is the potion going?_

_We're writing to let you in on a new development we've discovered. The remedy potion will actually serve to flush out the True Love Potion permanently, so you will only have to continue taking it for say, another week or so. Maybe two weeks to be sure._

_And as an appreciation for your participation in our trial of the True Love Potion, we've decided to give you an open register in the Weasley's Wizard Whizzes, meaning that you can have anything from us, any time you want. Take it as an apology for our dreadful judgment._

_Sincerely,_

_Fred & George Weasley _

After breakfast and her first two classes, Hermione decided to tell Malfoy about the new development. As much as she loathed to see him just then, she thought that it was the right thing to do.

She knocked on his door a couple times before standing with her hand on her hip, waiting for a reply. It came after a couple seconds.

"Who is it?" he shouted from inside.

"It's Hermione," she called.

"What d'you want, Granger?" he growled.

"I need to speak with you," she called again. She was growing impatient with this situation and considered forgetting about the idea entirely.

"Come in," he rather ordered. Hermione turned the door knob and stepped just about a foot inside.

"Did you get the letter?" she asked shortly.

"What letter?" he questioned.

"From Fred and George."

"Those two idiots? No."

"They're not idiots."

"They are too sodding idiots!" he shouted unexpectedly. "They are," he repeated in a more suppressed growl.

"No they aren't," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"Are."

"This is ridiculous."

"You're bloody ridiculous," he sneered.

"Sod off, you insufferable jack – "

"Why don't you? You're in my bloody room."

"Not for long," she spat as she turned on her heel.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he reminded her mockingly.

"You only have to take the potion for another one or two weeks!" she yelled at him, her face red from anger at this point.

"Fine," he snapped. "Get out."

"One step ahead of you," she growled as she stomped back down the hall and into her own room. The walls of their dorms shook when she slammed the door.

"Stupid Mudblood wench!" Draco found himself screaming at her as his walls ceased shaking. He was a bit surprised to hear himself say that, and a small amount of guilt came from it. He could hate her all he wanted, but was that supposed to change his views on muggle-borns altogether?

He had risked his life to leave his family's ranks in the Death Eater circle because he believe it to all be a load of rubbish. And quite reasonably, it was. Especially now with the Dark Lord – _Voldemort_, Draco forced himself to think. He still didn't like using that word – was gone for good, or so it appeared…

Draco pounded his fist on the side of the tub once again. He decidedly told himself that he would never refer to her as a Mudblood again, even if she was a filthy little witch and quite deserved the term.

_Merlin, what a bitch,_ Draco rambled. _I can't believe a bloody potion was able to make me think I loved her… Merlin, it even got me to shag her. Sodding powerful potion if you ask me. Those stupid Weasleys, why do they have to muddle everything for all of us? Bastards, that's what they are. Bloody sons of bitches – or really, one bitch seeing as they have the same mother – shut up Malfoy, you're being daft. The point is they're assholes. They don't deserve to get off with nothing… I should sue, really. If this was a Muggle issue I would. For Merlin's sake, I could create the first wizard sue case ever if I really wanted to. But that would be too public, wouldn't it? Who bloody knows who's on the lookout for me now…_

_Certainly not my father any longer. The sodding idiot, why would he do this to me? But then again, you've got to feel sorry for the man. Soul sucked out and body left behind, it would be rather horrific. But he deserves it, he bloody well deserves everything he's been dealt. The bastard – _

Draco's thoughts were cut off by another knock at the door.

"What d'you want Granger?" he yelled, assuming that the silly little wench had come to apologize for being such a bitch before. "I don't want to speak with you, you know?"

The door opened slowly and Professor Tonks stepped in with her eyebrows high on her forehead. "Sorry to hear that things aren't going well with Hermione…" she said sympathetically.

"Yeah well it turns out that it was all fake anyways, so bloody big deal," Draco sneered, looking down at the thick potion to keep from meeting her gaze.

"Is now a bad time?" Tonks said as she took a step backward. "I mean I could make it back later if you need some time to – "

"No!" Draco cut her off. "I mean, please, what do you need?" he tried to soften his voice and was only a tiny bit successful.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that I'm making headway in my research and it seems that if we – "

"Wait," Draco cut her off again. "Professor are you…?"

She followed his eyes to her own stomach and blushed with the realization of what he was asking her. "Yes, I am," she gushed. It make Draco sick.

"But isn't Lupin a – "

"A werewolf, yes…" Tonks looked down. "We're hoping for the best. There've been some inconclusive studies that suggest that there might not even be a link between the affected cells of the werewolf and his or her reproductive organs… But you don't need to know about that."

"Sorry," he nodded. She was right, he really didn't need to know. He didn't care a bit, actually. He was rather unsure of what had made him comment in the first place. Here she was, telling him about her research of how to get him out of the bloody porcelain jail cell, and he had to change the subject _off_ of himself – how very out of character for him. He didn't know what came over him at all.

"What I was saying," Tonks continued. "Was that my research has shown no hard facts of positive reactions to anti-Draught potions, but there are a few that look promising…"

"Well what are they?" Draco pushed. Tonks began blushing then, and he was pretty sure that he didn't want to hear the answer. But she told him anyways.

Or rather, she asked him, "Mr. Malfoy, are you… are you, ahem, sexually active?"

Draco's eyes widened. He understood at once, although he was unsure how, what she meant by that question. "Really?" he gaped at her.

She nodded and gulped at the same time. "Yes, well, some studies on the subject have shown that an abundance of sexual activity might actually drive the Loophole Potion out of your system altogether… it seems that the potion may have affected your… well, your testis, and… well, if you were to, ahem – "

"If I were to, say, rotate the current… batch… with a new one… I might….?"

She nodded again. "I am hardly in the situation to give you advice I mean… I am you teacher and for me to suggest… Well, it's out of the question for me to encourage that kind of behavior. But I think in this situation, it might be necessary for all of us to adjust our morals slightly."

"I don't think it will be a problem, Professor," he let slip without thinking, and then mentally slapped himself quite a few times for that comment.

"Let me know how it goes," she said as she exited the room. "I mean, don't let me know how _it_ goes, but let me know – "

"Thanks Professor, I know what you mean."

She nodded and left the room looking decidedly flushed and slightly sweaty. Draco smiled. Finally, some good news.


	24. Dragon Tree

Chapter Twenty-Four: NEWTs

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Dragon Tree **

Hermione popped the cork out of the vial and plugged her nose as she tipped the contents into her mouth and let them roll down her throat. It was the last time she would drink that potion. She removed the glass from her lips and wiped them on her sleeve, inhaling deeply.

Then she stood from the place on the floor that she'd been kneeling on and rubbed her knees off as she made her way out the door of her bedroom.

She was on her way out of the Heads' common when she stopped dead in her tracks.

Malfoy stumbled in through the portrait and noticed her there. He stood upright at once and leaned casually with one arm on the wall.

"Well what do we have here?" he scrunched his nose at her.

"Don't be daft, Malfoy, I'm just going to have some breakfast. Unless that's suspicious behavior all of the sudden," Hermione raised her eyebrow as she spoke to him. She was pretty sure that he was reasonably intoxicated, and she couldn't help her burning curiosity in the fact that he looked perfectly normal, no hint of black hair or irises anywhere. And seeing him there, propped so arrogantly against the wall, she was sure that he'd been cured. She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard him speak.

"Well, Granger, for you it is," he sneered.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Nothing, just that it's hardly possible for one to eat anything and look so impossibly emaciated at the same time."

"I am not emaciated, you bloody – "

He cut her off by stepping forward and grabbing both of her wrists in one of his hands. "Granger, if this isn't gaunt I don't know what is," he scoffed before dropping her hands quickly and stepping around her towards his dorm.

"I am not gaunt! I'm perfectly healthy! I just have thin wrists!" Hermione screamed at him as he retreated, but she finally gave up when he was gone through the door. "Imbecile," she cursed at him quietly as she began making her way once more to the Great Hall, determined to eat plenty that morning.

A few minutes later, she was still scarfing down her food without a word. Ron looked over at her questioningly.

"Wha' ?" she asked, her mouth still full of bacon.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked her. "You're eating faster than Ron."

"I'm fine I jus' – " she swallowed. "I'm just hungry."

Both Harry and Ron raised their eyebrows at her and she relented to tell them the whole story.

"Malfoy called me emaciated and gaunt," she whined. Her friends were silent, and Hermione looked at them expectantly. "I am not gaunt! Ron, Harry! I'm not!"

"Yeah, I know," Ron nodded his head.

"Hermione – " Harry said.

"Harry, don't start! I'm fine, look at me, I'm eating tons," she motioned to her plate.

"I know it's just, you have lost a lot of weight this year."

"Yeah, but I'm gaining it back!" she argued. "I was too anxious and – " she felt her throat tighten all of the sudden and stopped talking.

"It's okay Hermione, we understand," Ron put his arm around her.

"Thanks Ron," she smiled but displaced herself from his arm. "But I think I'm going to go now. I'll be in the library," she said as she got up from the table and left the Great Hall.

Malfoy chuckled at himself as he flopped down on his bed.

"It's so great being normal again," he told himself delightedly. He ran over the events of the past week, savoring every memory as he lazed in his king-sized bed. The best part, undisputedly, was when he was able to get out of that blasted tub without turning into a monster of a human. He absolutely loved the way his cashmere sweater felt against his skin, and the feeling of security that his warm, soft bed provided was incredible. Ahh, but he was getting ahead of himself.

After Tonks had left his room that day, Draco decided exactly how to go about the business. Since Pansy was out of the question (he'd had enough of that, thank you very much), and Millicent Bulstrode was quite simply the worst shag ever (he'd also had a bit of that, a long, long time ago), he really had no choice. He had to find something outside of Slytherin.

Which didn't really bother him all that much. Everyone knew that it was the Hufflepuffs who were really worth it. Sure, most of them were too innocent and moral to be up for a casual shag once in a while, but the lack of overly sharp wit (like Ravenclaw), the insatiable need to 'do the right thing' (like Gryffindor), and the self-absorbed, self-seeking habits of the Slytherins, Hufflepuffs were very well suited indeed. Not to mention the fact that most pretty girls got put into Hufflepuff because, as everyone knows, they aren't worth much more than their looks.

He'd written a note to Zabini, asking for the company of a young lady from Hufflepuff, and had his owl deliver it to him in his dorm. Not an hour later, a knock on his door proved success.

She'd been pretty, and definitely able to take care of his needs for the time being, but frankly, Draco wasn't interested in pursuing her further. She was getting boring, and he was starting to notice flaws in her that told him it was time to move on.

He was flying his broom a lot, late at night, to gain back some strength. And he was finally ready, he'd decided the night before, to start going to classes again. He still had to continue, eh well, let's call it therapy – but other than that he was able to live a completely normal life.

The only problem, then, was Granger. She would be there, in every one of his classes, and he really did not feel like dealing with that quite then. He was rather fond of the time he'd spent away from her, actually, and was practically dreading having to be in her presence constantly again.

He chuckled to himself as he told himself that it couldn't be that bad, and that if she was as touchy and argumentative as she'd proven to be the last couple of days, he might even have a little fun.

He pulled himself out of bed and drank a potion to keep his hangover at bay, and then remembered the remedy potion from the Weasley buffoons. Smiling icily, he tipped that potion into his mouth as well.

"So long, Granger," he toasted to himself.

Hermione nestled in between Harry and Ron as they stood around the planters in Greenhouse Five, waiting for Professor Sprout's instruction.

"Good morning class!" she greeted cheerfully. "Today we're covering quite a lot, so listen up!"

Everyone waited silently as she continued, "_Dracaena draco__." Hermione bolted upright at the sound of Draco's name, as she was still quite furious with him from earlier. She looked over at Draco, who was smiling complacently at the thought that a plant was named after him._

_"This plant," the elderly witch held up a seedling with long, pointed leaves. "Is also known as the Dragon Tree. Everyone come take a seedling."_

_When the students were settled back at their troughs, each holding a small plant, the Herbologist continued. "The tree is young now, and it is your duties to raise it to adulthood, which is when the plant will be ready for use. We will be using an aging charm to speed the process. Everyone, transfer your trees from the pot into the soil," she directed._

_Hermione dug a careful hole big enough for the plant to settle in, and removed it from the pot. She placed the roots into the soil and covered them, and then looked around. Most of the other students were finishing about the same time._

_"Now, most of you are probably wondering why we're growing this tree," Professor Sprout said when almost everyone was finished transferring their plants. "It's called a Dragon Tree for a reason. Can any of you guess what that reason is?"_

_For a moment no one raised their hands, but finally Neville sent his up in the air slowly._

_"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?"_

_"Does it have dragon-like qualities?" he asked tentatively._

_"Quite so," Professor Sprout nodded enthusiastically. "Would you like to have a go at what those qualities are?"_

_"I don't know," Neville looked like he was thinking very intently. "Maybe the sap?"_

_"Very correct!" the gray witch practically jumped up and down with excitement. "This plant, once it reaches maturity, has sap the color of blood – dragon blood, no less. Very dark hue. When used in potions, the sap almost always has the same exact effect as actual dragon blood, and for that reason makes many potions easier to create as dragon blood is much harder to attain."_

_Everyone oooh'ed and aahh'ed and looked quite excited. Professor Sprout still went on._

_"Now, the best thing, in my opinion, about the __Dracaena draco__ is that the plant can remain intact even after use. Most of the time only one leaf must be removed to yield an abundant supply of sap, and for that reason the plant can usually live for many decades if properly cared for. Now," she pulled her wand out of a pocket. "Everyone, wands out. The incantation is '__Tacret'__. Everyone charm your plants. That's right, '__Tacret__'. Good. The spell is only meant for plants, so don't any of you try to use it on yourselves to get a bottle of firewhiskey," the instructor chuckled. "Ten minute break, everyone!"_

_The students filed out of the greenhouse and stood in circles of three or four each, talking amongst themselves. _

_"Did you see his face when she mentioned his name?" Hermione huffed. "What an arrogant, insufferable twit." _

_"Yeah, he thinks it's some big honor to have a plant with the same name as his," Ron agreed. "How daft."_

_Harry just chuckled. _

_"What?" Hermione looked at him accusingly. _

_"Nothing, just wondering – If we tore one of Malfoy's 'branches' off, do you think his 'sap' would have dragon-blood qualities?" he smiled._

_Hermione and Ron both laughed and Ron said, "I doubt it, he's probably too anemic for his blood to have any qualities at all. The pansy."_

_"Speaking of Pansy," Hermione motioned to the flat-faced girl. "She seems to think that Crabbe is a good enough replacement for Malfoy." Indeed, the girl had her arm linked with the blundering oaf. The three Gryffindors laughed in unison. _

_They spent the next five minutes or so making light cracks about the Slytherin House, and Hermione began biting her nails unconsciously. _

_"Hermione, why're you biting your nails like a maniac all of the sudden?" Harry asked her when the habit was beginning to interrupt his train of thought._

_She pulled her finger out of her mouth and looked at the nail. "Oh, didn't notice I was actually. Must just be nervous about NEWTs."_

_"OHHH HERMIONE, don't say that word!!" Ron moaned. "Please, let's just pretend – "_

_"Oh, Ron, don't be ridiculous. You're acting as if the very mention of tests is going to give you a hernia," Hermione said skeptically._

_"Ugh, that one too – the 'T' word. I'm going to be sick," he whined._

_The small gray-haired teacher appeared in the entrance of the greenhouse and after getting all of the students' attention with a loud whistle from her fingers, called, "I think it's about time – Yes! Let's get back in now, everyone! Quickly!"_

_She turned around and entered, and all of the students filed in after her. Hermione observed Neville's amazement as he gazed all around the room at the huge palm-like trees. They'd grown to twenty times the size of their seedlings, at least._

_"Now everyone, get your materials ready. We'll only be removing one leaf from each plant today, and each of you will keep the leaf from your tree for future potions in Professor Slughorn's class – " She cleared her throat to get the attention of those who seemed to be too excited " – Let me show you the proper technique before – ohh, Miss Parkinson, did you not wait for instruction?" The Slytherin girl raised her hand, which was covered in a red blood-like substance, and Hermione noticed that the sap was almost all over her body. It seemed the only reason it had stopped flowing was because of Pansy's hand was pressed against the spot where the limb had been._

_"__Scourgefy!__ There Miss Parkinson, that should do it – and now… I suppose we'll have to let that bleed out…" She transfigured a large jar and placed it over the wound. The 'dragon's blood' gushed out into the jar and filled it as Professor Sprout continued. "As we learn from Miss Parkinson's mistake, ripping the limbs off without prior measure is a bad idea. It will most likely result in the premature death of her tree – " the girl gasped " – so to prevent that in your trees, please do the following:_

_First, Transfigure a few braces to truncate the blood flow to that limb, then after most of the color drains you may begin cutting. If it starts to bleed too much, cease immediately and bandage the wound, then try another branch with the same procedure. Alright, everyone ready? Go ahead, now. Careful!"_

_Hermione began as was instructed. She tied the cords especially tight to ensure that the flow would be completely cut off. While she was waiting for the branch to fade in color, she looked over at Ron. She wasn't entirely surprised to see him struggling profusely as he started cutting and received a nice squirt of sap right in the face, but she felt bad anyways. _

_"Ron, didn't you wait?" she asked him, half scolding._

_"Well, I thought it'd been long enough…" he shrugged. He then went about bandaging the partly severed limb sloppily._

_"Well wait longer this time. I'll let you know when it's ready, okay?" Hermione offered._

_"It's fine, Hermione," Ron replied rather grumpily. "I can do some things by my self, you know."_

_"__Sorry__," she muttered, mostly to herself because it wasn't loud enough for him to hear._

_She looked over at her tree, which had progressed nicely, and decided that the color was mostly gone and that it would probably be safe now. She took out a knife and started cutting, and was entirely surprised by the way the branch felt so much like human flesh. She found it very nauseating, to be perfectly honest. After the limb was severed completely, she wrapped it up and stuck it in her bag. She had potions next, so it wouldn't be too terrible to keep for the next half hour or so. _

_She only had to wait a few minutes longer before the class ended and all of them were excused. Hermione waited for Ron and Harry to pack their things and then the three of them headed back up to the castle. Ron's nasty mood had dissipated as soon as it'd appeared, and he was now ready for hand-holding and cheek-kissing once more._

_Draco emerged from the greenhouse feeling completely victorious. He'd come out perfectly with the project, and he'd even avoided unwanted contact with the certain Muggle-born that he so vehemently disliked. _

_Now, however, he caught eye on her retreating form and had a fleeting memory of a very good time that he'd spent with that little body. He chided himself for the though quickly, and looked away as fast as his eyes would let him. Somehow, though, the incident served to ruin his day. _

_He went immediately to the Great Hall. If he wasn't hungry just yet, at least he would be able to observe all of the fifth-and-sixth year girls. He was in need of another fix, and fast. _

_He spotted a tall, slightly on the full side but not quite plump, blonde girl that he'd never noticed before. She was laughing with her friends, which all looked to be male, and she wasn't interacting particularly intimately with any of them. He could see a long leg through the part in her school robe, and quite fancied the way her short little skirt brushed against her thigh. _

_He hopped up jauntily from his place at the table and strutted over to her. Swooping low enough to make contact with her hair, he whispered, "Meet me at the Astronomy Tower," into her ear and then sauntered out through the doors of the Great Hall, enjoying the feeling of her eyes following him._

_He went there quickly, but not so fast that he couldn't hear her footsteps behind him. As he turned corners he could see the flip of her blonde hair behind him. Finally, he reached the tower and leaned himself casually against a stone wall as he waited the few seconds for her to reach him. She turned the corner that brought her to him and he grabbed her behind the head and brought her lips to his. _

_Nice, full, soft lips. But her kissing was in need of a little work. He'd definitely had better. He let his mind wander as she kissed him hungrily. After he realized just who he was thinking of, he broke contact._

_"I'm Malfoy. You can call me Malfoy, because hardly anyone calls me Draco. I see you're a prefect. Perfect, because I'm head boy. Let's break some rules, shall we?"_

_She looked into his eyes a little shyly and said "I'm – My name's Heather."_

_"Heather," Malfoy repeated. Ironically close to Hermione's name. Annoyingly close, actually. "What year are you, Heather?"_

_"I'm fifth," she said. He was starting to see that this might be a little less interesting. She was getting shyer by the minute._

_"Fantastic, I lost my virginity in fifth year," Malfoy smirked devilishly. She grinned back at him, surprisingly. _

_"I've always wanted to lose mine to someone powerful," she whispered seductively. Well, maybe he'd been wrong about this one._

_"Oh, I can be powerful, luv," he said as he pushed her against the wall. She hit her head a bit on the stone, but he didn't stop. He ravished her neck and chest and parted her robes to get to that delicious little skirt. His hand found its way to her inner thigh and moved up (apparently rather quickly because she gasped). He toyed with the hem of her panties before moving in, but didn't give her too much because frankly, he didn't care if she liked it. In a matter of minutes he had her legs wrapped around his and her head was hitting against the wall repeatedly as he rocked her back and forth. _

_In the moment before he let go, Malfoy did something that he would want to kill himself for. He felt the familiar stirring inside of him that told him it was time, and in the moment of passion he opened his mouth and heard himself moan, "ohh Granger…"_

_The fifth year (what was her name again?) gasped and he knew immediately that he was done for. It was too late, however, and he pressed her harder against the stone wall as his body shook in the last remnants of ecstasy. _

_The girl was pushing him away now and her feet made contact with the floor. _

_"Get – off – me," she huffed. He pulled himself away from her and zipped his pants. "I can't believe you would do – ugh," she said disgustedly._

_Malfoy shook his head as he examined his feet. "I can't believe it either," he muttered._

_He felt a hand come in contact with his face and heard her stalking off down the stone floors of the hallway._

_"'Granger'? Why the bloody hell would I say 'Granger'?" he brooded out loud. _


	25. The After Effect

Chapter Twenty-Five:

**Chapter Twenty-Five: The After Effect**

For the third night in a row, Draco opened the window of his bedroom and grabbed his broom in his hand. He'd dressed warmly even though it was rather hot out on that night because he knew that the whipping wind would cool him down considerably. Without hesitating, he jumped up on the sill of his window and mounted the hovering broom as he began his flight.

It was like a dance for him, weaving through the night air, feeling the breeze on his face. He gained speed and then turned to fly straight up into the air. He shot up as far and fast as he dared before turning straight back around again to fly vertically towards the ground. He brought himself back up just before hitting the ground so that the tips of his expensive leather trainers almost hit the ground. He thought he could do better and tried again, this time allowing himself to get low enough to actually touch the ground with his hand before coming back up again.

Satisfied, he cut back up and zoomed through the night air, making his way to the towers. It was a fun game of his, flying at full speed and avoiding all of the towers as he maneuvered around them.

As he flew he reflected on his building confusion. Ever since the incident with Heather the fifth year he couldn't bring himself to go at it again. He'd let a couple girls relieve him, of course. I mean, it was necessary to his health still. But he couldn't find it in him to get intimate enough with them. Not only was he afraid of repeating the mistake (which he'd almost done again once), but he was afraid of what it would mean if he did.

Every time he saw the Gryffindor had become strenuous. He found himself eyeing her subconsciously during class periods. He even found it difficult to avoid "accidentally" bumping into her in the halls.

As the wind whipped through his platinum hair, he convinced himself that he was going crazy. He was just going through an awful lot at the moment, and he couldn't help but be a little interested in that memory of the past few months.

Again convincing himself that he was a little off, he ignored the glint of something shining in the corner of his eye. He continued to weave around the roofs of the castle for a few minutes, but then glanced back over to the Astronomy Tower and realized that he hadn't been fooling himself.

There she was, the very object of all his confusion, looking out across the grounds from the highest peak of the castle.

He swooped down stealthily and came up behind her.

"Well isn't this a lovely surprise?" he said when he was only a couple feet behind her. She gasped loudly and turned around to face him.

"Holy hell, Malfoy, what is your bloody problem, coming up on a person like that! I could've died! I could've fallen off the sodding tower!" she chided him.

"And wouldn't that have made me the luckiest boy alive?" he articulated smarmily.

"Ugh, you're so terrible. Forget it, I'm leaving." She turned to leave. He watched the fabric of her black silky night dress flow around her body enchantingly before bidding her to stop.

"What is it Malfoy?" she huffed, standing just in front of the stone archway that led to the staircase.

He stepped closer to her and let his eyes roam all over her body.

"Malfoy?" she demanded, but her voice held a hint of dreaminess to it.

A frantic sensation passed through his body, and before he knew what he was doing, he found himself pressing against her small frame as the soft wind blew wistfully through her hair.

"Ugh, Malfoy, what are you doing? Get off me," she said, trying to sound disgusted but not able to hide the hint of satisfaction in her voice.

"Granger, you're so bloody prudish, you know that?" he sneered as he shoved off her. What had he been thinking?

"No, Malfoy, you're an arrogant asshole," she bit back. Her honeyed eyes caught the moonlight sensuously and with a hint of fire that Draco was intrigued by.

"Maybe I am, but you love me," he pinned her against the column again, whispering in her ear. He felt a tremble come from her body, and he thought of how cold she must be with that nightgown on. His eyes glanced down subconsciously and he licked his lips lustfully when he saw the two ripe fleshes covered in small goose bumps. He ran a finger along the line of her bust, toying with the texture that her shivers provided.

"I hate you," she whispered back, somehow sounding convincing and unconvincing at the same time. Or maybe, he just wanted her to sound unconvincing.

"I hate you too, Granger," he said, letting his hot breath fill her left ear and cause even more goose bumps to form all along her whole left side.

"Then why are you – ahhhh – doing – mmmmmn – this?" she asked as he began to take her earlobe in between his teeth and nibble at it softly.

Why was he doing this? He tried to think of a logical reason, but the only thing coming to his head was 'Why hadn't he done this in so long?' He slid his tongue out a bit to tousle the soft flesh and received a moan of satisfaction. Accompanied, however, was a slap to the face.

"Ow! You fucking whore, what was that for!?" he yelped in pain and surprise. Pushing himself off her, she was now free to fold her arms in front of her (she didn't know it, but this caused Draco to notice even more intently the orbs of skin that were barely covered).

"I did it because you're trying to seduce me!" she accused.

"Trying to – what the bloody hell? I'm not trying to anything!" he sneered.

"Hah, right," she scoffed at him. "Then what was that?" she waved her hand to indicate the moment before.

"That was – I was," he began to search for an excuse. One didn't come in time.

"I've got a boyfriend, Malfoy. And I hate you because you're an arrogant bastard," she told him rather arrogantly herself.

"Boyfriend, right," he laughed. "Ron Weasley, tell me, how's he in bed?"

"Shut up you – you – "

"You insufferably sexy god?" Draco grinned.

"No, you insufferably cocky little – "

"Well Granger it's hard not to be cocky when I've such a big – "

"Ugh, you're disgusting!"

"You want me so badly," he brought his voice down to a hiss as he pressed her against the hard stone again.

"I – do – not," she struggled under him.

"Oh yeah?" he cocked his eye brow challengingly. Not that she could see this, because it was quite dark outside.

"Yes," she said matter-of-factly.

"Then why are you letting me do this?" he asked before sending his hand deftly up her skirt and pressing his fingers on her, with only her thin cotton underwear between his hand and herself. She moaned in pleasure and her head rolled back against the wall.

Draco noted fleetingly that he'd never done this to her before. Strangely, they'd skipped over the stepping stones. It didn't change anything, though, and as he pressed his fingers harder he breathed faster and faster. He could feel wetness through her thin panties and he was anxious to feel it without anything in between. He tried to steady his breathing, though. As he took a deep breath in, he inhaled the scent of her honey shampoo that lingered like a halo around her head.

"Malfoy," she moaned. Then she did it again. Then a third time, more sternly. The fourth time it was accompanied by a hand on his wrist.

She pulled him away from her and put his hand at his side. "Don't," she said vaguely.

He licked his lips in frustration and stepped back from her. "You're such a bloody tease," he said bitterly.

"No, Malfoy, I just have morals. I remember you once saying that there was nothing wrong with that."

"Well bloody hell, Hermione, I was under a love potion. I would say anything," he argued. He didn't even notice the use of her first name, something he hadn't done in months.

She scoffed at him again. It was ironic, because scoffing was supposed to be his thing. "Great to know that all of that was a farce."

"Of course it was a fucking farce, Granger. Don't get all self-righteous on me," he said. "You were under the same potion, nothing you did was real, either."

"I'd like to think that I meant some of it," she said indignantly.

"Yeah?" he asked. "Like which parts?"

"I don't know – " she looked down at her feet. He knew immediately what she was thinking, although he didn't know how. He realized just then how strange it must be for her to have lost her virginity to him, her sworn enemy, while under a love potion.

"I have to go," he said suddenly. He was feeling very sick all of the sudden. Without saying anything else, he picked up his broom and set it to flight, leaving her on a gust of wind.

Hermione'd had no real intentions for going up to the Astronomy Tower that night. She'd wanted to think, of course, but one as intelligent as her could argue that thinking could be accomplished in her own room just as well as it could up in the heights of the tower. Nevertheless, when she'd left her room that night instinctively, she didn't even bother to put on a coat or shoes. She let herself wander to the tower, thinking on her way there and thinking after she'd reached her destination.

Things with Ron were getting worse. Every time she kissed him, she felt a pang of guilt inside of her. Of course, this made absolutely no sense, because why should she feel guilty for doing the right thing? And being with Ron was most definitely the right thing.

They still argued. Not like before, but they did. Over little things. And every time they had a disagreement, Hermione felt like things were more and more corrupted between them. Like there was something there that really should not have been there at all.

She'd gotten to the point where she didn't even like to look at him anymore. Not that she'd particularly enjoyed it before, but now it was practically painful. With his freckles and his mop of red hair, and that goofy smile. He was such a child.

Hermione never felt secure with him. She couldn't find a place where she felt safe in his arms, or a comfort in his existence. He was just too immature, too… well, too inexperienced. He'd never had a relationship before, other than Lavender, which could hardly be called a relationship. He didn't understand the way things worked. He thought that it was just snogging all the time, and no talking or bonding or –

_Well, with Malfoy, where was the bonding?_ she asked herself.

"Of course all we did was snog, we were under a potion for Merlin's sake," she ranted out loud.

_But back then, you'd actually wanted to snog,_ the voice in her head brought up a good point. _And don't blame it on the sodding potion, because you very well know that there's no difference._

"But there is a difference," she argued with herself. "Of course there's a difference between Ron's sloppy eel of a tongue and Malfoy's – wait," she stopped herself. "What am I saying?"

_You're saying that you miss him,_ her brain told her.

_Ugh, shut up Hermione, no you don't._

At that point, a particularly cold and strong gust of wind blew at her. She shivered and held her bare shoulders, trying to rub away the bumps that had formed on her skin.

That was when he came up behind her.

She didn't mean to let him control her like she had. She really didn't want him pressing his lean muscular body on hers, securely pinning her to the wall in a dominant, rather insinuatingly. Really. She didn't like it one bit when he kissed her ear so tenderly, causing her to shiver with delight and a small amount of pain that came from the light tickling. She definitely didn't feel like her whole universe was falling into place when he'd touched her in a place that he'd never been before. That no one had ever been before, as a matter of fact.

No, the whole experience had been very unlikable indeed. Very, very unlikable.

Why, then did she let him do it? Why did she melt at the press of his body against hers? Why did she turn to butter under his hands?

What bloody was it about him that made him so undeniably irresistible? Why was it that, no matter how wrong it was, she really didn't want him to stop. Not one bit.

She'd wanted him to argue with her. To insult her like he always did, in his usual way that she'd become accustomed to, and then to ravish her like he'd been doing before.

She wanted it, oh God, she wanted it badly.

And then he left, just like that.

What in Merlin's beard was the boy thinking?

Was he feeling the same way?

_And what way would that be, Hermione?_ She asked herself.

"Oh sod off – fine," she gave in. "Does the slimy git miss me like I miss him?"


	26. Through the Ice

Chapter Twenty-Six:

**bcenterChapter Twenty-Six: Through the Ice/b/center**

"Since you are Seventh-Years and all very mature," Professor Slughorn began at the start of the Potions class. He didn't even finish the sentence before most of the kids in the class started sniggering.

_IApparently/I,_ Hermione mused. I_The word 'mature' is hilarious to most of the teenage population. Well, of course it is./I_

She wasn't in the mood for it this morning. After the night before, she was doing her damnedest to not fall apart. It was making her very crabby. And the fact that Malfoy hadn't even blinked to take his eyes off her since breakfast was a bit unnerving, too.

"Ahem, listen class," the professor began again, his plump little fingers ringing themselves excitedly. "Since you're all very mature, I think that we will try the imitation dragon's blood on one of the most interesting potions – an aphrodisiac."

The class was silent then. Slughorn's mouth twitched into a smile, although it was rather hard to tell with that mustache covering it. Hermione rolled her eyes. Great, another reason for her to want to run screaming. Malfoy shared this class with her, but that wasn't what she was worrying about. Ron also shared the class, and Merlin knows what would happen if her ingested anything intending to make him even more… riled up, let's call it… Hermione just didn't know what she'd do. She was having a hell of a time trying to keep him off of her as it was.

Not that she didn't want to be with him like that… Well, so maybe she didn't. At all. Even a little tiny bit.

Did that make her a bad person?

She convinced herself that there was more to relationships than sex, and that if she wasn't rushing into it with Ron then good for her (too bad he didn't feel the same way).

She glanced over at the red headed boy on her left and saw him smile enthusiastically at her and wave his eyebrows a bit. He was probably trying to be seductive or something. Hermione didn't know anymore.

Then she glanced over at Malfoy, who (surprisingly) had finally taken his eyes off her and was chatting with a brunette on his right.

_IWell isn't she charming_/I Hermione grimaced inwardly. I_As charming as a dead horse, anyways. Ugh, how despicable./I_

She eyed the flirting couple for another few seconds before shifting her eyes back to the professor. Most of the class was settling down now, and he was up there chortling like a walrus in plaid pants. It wasn't long before he wrote the instructions on the board and told the class to get to work.

"Hermione," Ron said as he plopped down in the seat next to her. "What do you say a little of this potion goes missing after class?" he grinned as if he was the most clever person in the entire universe.

"Yeah, Ron," Hermione agreed absent-mindedly as she began chopping ingredients and adding them according to the instructions. Ron got to work on his cauldron next to her, and he kept talking about something, but Hermione was hardly listening. She was trying to hear what Malfoy and the brunette were talking (and giggling, ugh) about, but to no avail. The class was too loud.

_IWhy do you care, anyways?_ /Ia voice in her head asked her. She frowned at her own logic and turned to face Ron. He was looking at her expectantly.

"Aren't you going to say something?" he asked.

"Well, I… I just don't know what to say!" her eyes widened excitedly, matching his.

"I know, right!?" he smiled and pulled her into a hug. "Can you believe it? Me, an uncle!"

Hermione's eyes opened wider, but he couldn't see because he was still squeezing the living daylights out of her. An uncle? Dear God, Ginny! – But wait, that didn't make any sense. Harry and Ginny were just beginning to start speaking again, Hermione could hardly assume… The fact that Ron had more than one sibling slowly dawned on her and she smiled knowingly.

"So how far along is she – Fleur, I mean," she asked, saving her own skin skillfully.

"I don't know, I didn't ask," he answered, finally letting go of her. "But this is going to be one exciting summer at the Burrow, isn't it? I mean what with Tonks and Fleur – and they're sure to get married, too – Tonks and Lupin, that is."

Hermione nodded and tried to get back to work. Exciting summer, yeah. Except for the fact that it would be their last together before starting life as adults, probably in different cities or maybe even countries…

"Hermione, you okay?" Ron asked, noticing her melancholy expression.

"Yeah, fine, I was just thinking about the fact that this is our last year at Hogwarts, and it's almost over."

He nodded understandingly. "Sad, 'innit?" then he smiled. "But at least me and you will be able to see each other all the time – when we get married, I mean."

Hermione gulped nervously and decided not to comment on that one.

The class let out an hour later and Hermione noticed Ron, true to his word, nicking a vial of the potion to take with him.

"Is that really necessary, Ron?" Hermione chided him as they exited through the dungeon doors.

Surprisingly, he turned on her quickly. "I don't know, Hermione, is it?" he snapped. Then he turned right back around and kept walking. Rather quickly, too, Hermione noticed.

"Hey, what's this all about, Ron?" she asked him, mocking innocence and ignorance perfectly.

"Oh, don't tell me you don't know, Miss Prude," he shot at her without turning around. She was practically running now to keep up.

"Ron, really, what are you on about?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to her. "Hermione, is there something wrong with me?" he demanded.

She didn't respond. How is one supposed to, with a question like that?

"Serious, Hermione, is there? Because I would think that after this long, a girl would be interested in a little bit more than constant games of Wizard Chess and incessant hours in the library, studying. So what is it? Why don't you want me at all?" his last question was less violently proclaimed, and more sadly inquired. It made Hermione's heart sink.

"Ron, it's not that I don't want you…" she tried to explain. But how could she? She didn't really know why she felt the way she did.

They were standing next to an alcove, and he backed her into it and pinned her against a wall. He bent his head down to kiss her, but she moved her head away. She just couldn't handle kissing him. Not after the night before. But right away, she realized what Ron took her movement as, because within a second he had pushed himself off of her and stepped back a few paces.

"Isn't it then?" he asked quietly, still acting dejected.

"No, Ron it's just that, well, I don't think it's a good idea to be… well, rushing into things," she said, thinking that he would have a hard time getting around that excuse. But she was wrong.

"Rushing? Hermione, you call this rushing? We've known each other for seven years!" he exclaimed. "Merlin's beard, if we haven't moved slowly here, I don't know what moving slowly is. We've been together for months now, and all you'll let me do is kiss you. And you don't even seem excited about THAT. Come on Hermione, spill it. What's the problem?"

"Ron, why is it so important to you?" she asked, seriously wondering.

"Why? Hermione, why do you think?" he asked. "How do you think it feels for a man to love a woman and not be able to show her just how much?" he looked her square in the eye.

"What?" she gasped.

"You heard it Hermione, I love you," he smiled sadly. "I have for I don't know how long."

"Oh my," she breathed.

"No, Hermione, don't say anything. I think it's better for us to just not talk to each other for a while," Ron declared cynically. He turned abruptly and walked away from here then, leaving her just as Malfoy had the night before.

She felt a tear roll down her cheek, but didn't really know where it came from. She felt relieved to not have to worry about the problems she and Ron were having, but she felt even worse for not being sad. She felt so much guilt for hurting him the way she had, and so much confusion.

If he'd been noticing her hesitancy the whole time, why hadn't he said something sooner? Why did he make her think that he was too daft to notice?

And why was she crying still?

She realized with a start that she wasn't crying for Ron.

The image plastered in her head was one of a different man. A blonde, sinewy one, with that guilty and sad look he'd had on his face the night before, right before he flew away from her.

Shaking the image away from her brain, she tried to clear her tears away. After standing there and catching her breath for a moment, she walked on.

She went up to her room. It was only lunch time, but she felt exhausted. She collapsed in her bed, not even having one more second to think before she dropped off to sleep.

Malfoy sat at the Slytherin table, his jaw chewing slowly, his eyes fixed on the Gryffindor table once again. He had noticed a half hour ago that Hermione had still not showed up in the Great Hall, and he was more than a bit curious where she was.

At least the Weasel was there, so she couldn't be off with him, snogging in a closet. That gave Malfoy a vague sense of security that he didn't dare acknowledge.

Upon finishing his lunch, he decided to leave the Great Hall and stop waiting around for her to show up. It was pretty obvious by that point that she wasn't going to, anyway.

As his expensive shoes clicked down the stone hallway, he glanced outside a window and saw a blue bird dancing around in the sky. It reminded him of the night before, when he'd danced in the air much like the bird was doing now. Not only did the memory make his stomach sink, but it also gave him a thirst to fly in the air like that again.

He quickened his steps to reach his room, and he hardly lingered at all when passing by Hermione's closed door. He picked up his broom unceremoniously and wrapped a green and silver Slytherin scarf around his alabaster neck before hopping out the window.

He let his broom carry him up, up, up, until the window he'd left looked as small as a box of matches (not that he would have said so – he'd never heard of matches in all his life). Then he let himself fall down. His robes billowed behind him as he soared down through the air, and his blonde hair waved about in the wind.

He went back up again and found the blue bird, and danced with it for a minute before thinking of Hermione again.

He didn't feel much like flying anymore, so he flew down and landed next to the Black Lake.

The air outside that day was warm, which proved the existence of spring. But the winter had lasted longer than usual, and the lake still had parts where the ice was solid. Draco set himself against a tree near one of these parts, and leaned his head back against the trunk. His eyes were closed and he was thinking deeply. He didn't notice anyone approaching until he felt a tug around his neck.

His eyes snapped open to see a squirrel scampering away through the frosty grass, clutching his Slytherin scarf in its little rodent paw. It stopped just as it reached the bank of the lake, and turned round to look at him.

Malfoy glared at the animal for a couple seconds before hopping up from his place and running toward it. The squirrel didn't move a bit until he was three feet away, and then it scampered right onto the ice of the lake.

Draco eyed it maliciously. He took out his wand (berating himself for not thinking of this before) and pointed it at he rodent.

"Impedimenta!" he yelled, as the freezing charm shot out and hit the squirrel. It stopped its twitching immediately, and Draco smiled complacently.

He stepped onto the ice testily, shifting his weight gradually to make sure that he wouldn't fall through. He took a few steps and then stopped.

Was it worth it? He could easily buy a new scarf. He didn't really have to risk falling through the ice into the cold water just for the piece of fabric.

The squirrel was far enough onto the ice that the water would be very deep beneath.

Draco took a deep breath and chided himself for being a coward. He had to get the scarf, because that impotent little rodent was not going to get the best of him. The memory of a certain incident involving himself as a ferret invaded his mind and he grimaced angrily.

He took a step forward, then another, and decided that the ice was thick enough to hold him.

It was a mistake.

He reached the animal and removed his scarf from its little clawed hands and replaced it around his neck. Smiling triumphantly, he unfroze the little squirrel and watched it run away, apparently terrified.

Then he heard a terrible crack beneath his right foot. He shifted his weight to his left, but it was too late. Giving a gigantic clapping noise the ice under him gave way and he plunged into the freezing cold water of the Black Lake.

His body tensed immediately, and he only had time to say the same "Impedimenta" curse on himself before he sank below, into the depths of the dark and cold lake.


	27. Savior

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Savior

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Savior**

Hermione woke from her fitful slumber to the sound of a loud crash from somewhere outside her window. For some inexplicable reason, her stomach dropped with anxiety. She rose from her bed with trepidation and peeked through the panes of her bedroom window.

All appeared as normal, but after taking a second look, something seemed off. She scanned with her eyes over the grounds again, and this time was able to locate the problem.

On the near edge of the Black Lake, there was a huge gash in the perfect sheet of ice that told of a terrible accident.

She screamed as loud as she could, to call for assistance.

"Help!" her voice echoed through the room, but she had a feeling no one else could hear her. "Someone help!" she cried again, but there was no response.

She mentally berated Malfoy for not coming to her aid when she was so obviously in need of something.

Hermione opened her window irrationally. She was four stories up, but somehow it seemed a better idea to get out that way than to travel through endless hallways and staircases. The person would be dead by the time she got there.

In fact, they might already be dead.

Her heart raced faster at the thought, and she threw all caution to the wind. She climbed out of her window and turned around to face the stone walls. She thanked heredity for her small feet as she began to scale down the side of the castle, using the edges of the stone as leverage.

She could feel her ears thumping with the rush of blood as she made her way down, as fast as she dared. She would get too confident at times, and pay for it by almost falling to her death below. Sweat trickled down her brow from the physical and mental exertion, and every muscle in her arms and legs were trembling as she reached the bottom and her toes touched the grass at last.

She turned around and ran towards the lake, not pausing to catch her breath. Her mind raced to think of what she could possibly do. That water was freezing cold, how was she supposed to jump in and save someone without drowning herself? But it was too late. She reached the gaping wound in the ice and had no more time to think. Throwing off her cloak and heavy jacket, she placed an air bubble around her head, knowing that with the charm she would only have three minutes to get in and out again before she used all of the air in the sac.

She plunged into the water, more ice breaking at the surface. Cold invaded her whole being, and she shivered quickly before firming her resolve. She didn't have time to be cold at the moment.

She swam down, searching for a sign of the person she was there to save. As she approached the bottom, she saw a head of platinum hair waving about in the water, and a Slytherin scarf floating towards her from the same place.

_Holy hell, Malfoy!_ she exclaimed in her head while struggling to swim down fast enough.

When she reached him, she saw his wand in his hand. She hoped (not that she would admit this to anyone else) that he'd had the good sense to charm himself somehow to keep himself alive.

Quickly, she reached out and grabbed his arm, and noticed that it was stiff as a board. Stupidly, she let out a sigh of relief and used a good thirty seconds worth of air in one go. She pulled him up, fraught to move at a quick enough pace with this newly added weight.

When they reached the surface, Hermione's air bubble popped and she took in a huge gasp of fresh air. She climbed onto the ice, clutching his arm with one of her hands. When she was out of the water, she began to try to pull him up. In a matter of seconds, she realized that it would be impossible, with him being as immobile as a statue. She pulled out her wand and said, "Finite **Incantatem**."

His body sprung back to life as he took the same gasping breath that she'd taken a minute before. His lips were purple and his teeth chattered incessantly. His hair froze instantly, and he suddenly sunk beneath the surface again.

Hermione pulled harder on his arm and saw his head some back up out of the water. He gasped again, but this time he reached his other hand up to her. She grabbed it, and pulled with all of her might. But he was too heavy.

"Malfoy, take off your coat!" she instructed anxiously.

He did as he was told without uttering a sound, and Hermione was quite sure the reason had something to do with the fact that he was barely alive. Otherwise it would have been some smart remark about her wanting to see his body more clearly, or something like that. His coat drifted to the bottom of the lake and he grasped her hands with both of his again.

She pulled his now lighter weight out of the water and dragged him to the grass on the edge of the lake.

She couldn't see her purple lips or feel her own chattering teeth because she was too focused on his. She collapsed onto the ground and pulled him into her lap, knowing exactly what she had to do.

She removed his tie with her shaking hands and began to unfasten the buttons on his shirt as quickly as she could. She pulled his shirt off of him and then removed his belt, his shoes, and his socks.

She blushed when she unbuttoned his pants, but was thankful for the warmth that her blood-invaded cheeks provided. She pulled them off to reveal his boxers, and of course they were made of silk. They were black with little green snakes making a checkered pattern.

Hermione chuckled. He was such a Malfoy. And such a Slytherin.

Throwing her still dry and warm coat over him, she began to undress herself. She took off her shoes and socks as well, and then her skirt. She was thankful that she'd decided to wear a little less revealing underpants that day as she began unbuttoning her own shirt. Her bra was pink and lacey that day, which made her squirm a little bit.

She covered herself with the coat as well, and pressed her body near his to keep them both underneath it at the same time. She was still shaking like mad, and her tired limbs were becoming weaker and weaker.

She laid her head down on the grass and shut her eyes, and just before she dropped off to sleep, she felt a strong arm wrap itself around her stomach.

"Miss Granger?" a voice inquired hazily.

Again, but a little clearer this time.

"And mister Malfoy?" the voice exclaimed, obviously shocked to see the two of them there, tangled like a mass of legs and arms, on the lawn of the Hogwarts castle.

Hermione rubbed her eyes and opened them slowly, forgetting where she was or how she was dressed (or, undressed, that is). She sat up and felt the cloak that had been her blanket fall off of her chest, exposing her in the still night air.

She gasped and pulled the cloak back up over her, and then saw with horror that the voice was coming from none other than her Potions master, Professor Slughorn.

"Tisk tisk," he was saying. "Shouldn't have given you youngsters that aphrodisiac potion, should I?"

"Professor!" Hermione called out. "This is _not_ what you think."

"Of course it isn't, my dear," he nodded consolingly – and very unconvincingly.

"No, really, it's not," she argued back, needing to prove herself. There was no way she could live if he thought that they'd been trysting on the lawn all day. "It's just that Malfoy, he fell into the lake, and… and I heard him fall – " she began explaining the situation fully, using animated hand motions. When she was finished talking, the teacher still looked unconvinced.

"Miss Granger, it's alright," he chortled. "I understand the young… urges. I was your age once and I must say I had quite a few – "

Hermione couldn't let him go on.

"Professor Slughorn, please, don't say anything else," she said as she held her hand up. "It's fine if you don't believe me, but at least can you not divulge the secrets of your past? And would you mind handing me my soaking wet clothes? And Malfoy's too, I think," she motioned to the pile of sopping wet clothes a few feet away.

Professor Slughorn turned his thick body to examine the mound, and his face contorted into a frown.

"Why, miss Granger, are you telling the truth about all of this?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, Professor, I happen to be doing just that."

Malfoy stirred just then. His hand reached up to rub his face, and when it brushed against Hermione's back on its way, his eyes snapped open.

"Merlin! Granger, what are you doing here?" he demanded, obviously evaded by the fact that he was on a grass field and not in his own bed.

"I'm saving your sodding life, Malfoy, that's what," Hermione snapped back. "And you're welcome, by the way."

Malfoy blinked as if a hammer had just hit him square between the eyes. He pursed his lips stubbornly and let out a tiny "Thanks" that was barely audible except for the fact that Hermione was still so close to him.

That fact made her shiver and she felt a warmth crawling up her spine and into her cheeks. She could feel him breathing on her back. Her breaths seemed to match themselves up to his, and suddenly she very a very strong need to distance herself from him, otherwise to something stupid.

She stood up, not daring to look at Malfoy's raised eyebrow, and wrapped her cloak around herself before taking the wet clothes from the Professor's chubby hands. Malfoy was left sitting on the lawn, his clothe-less body shining in the moonlight.

"Hey, what's the idea?" he shouted at her as he stood up himself.

"Oh, sorry, I jut thought that maybe you'd had enough of my company," she said tartly. She separated his clothes from hers and dropped them next to him. Then she flounced away, her cloak swaying behind her.

She barely heard Malfoy utter a vile word at her, and Professor Slughorn say, "Come on lad, you put this on."

She smiled slightly, not knowing exactly why, and stepped lightly up the stone stairs to enter the castle.


	28. Repaid

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Repaid**

The last week was spent with Hermione's nose perpetually buried in one book or another. Oh yes, it was that time of year finally. Exam time.

The final exams of her schooling years were only a day away, and she felt the distress of not having studied enough, not having taken enough practice tests, and not having learnt nearly enough to pass, just like she felt every time exams came around.

She was spending endless amounts of time in the library, surrounded by studies, in her room, surrounded by parchment and quills and books, and in her favorite armchair, pulling her hair out while trying to absorb bits of information deep into the night.

She hardly slept, for there were much more important things to be done. She ate, but she had her meals in private, where she could concentrate on studying instead of hearing the incessant chattering of the students around her.

Especially because most of the chattering was about her.

Apparently, Professor Slughorn was not the only one who saw Hermione and Malfoy that night on the lawn. Some stupid little sixth year had seen them and jumped to conclusions immediately. And like a sixth year usually does, she did the worst thing she possibly could; she went and told Ron Weasley that his girlfriend was shagging Draco Malfoy outside next to the Black Lake.

Of course, Ron was furious and didn't care whether it was the truth or not. But that wasn't the worst.

The girl had to go and tell every single soul in the school, and by the time it reached Hermione's ears, she had been shagging Malfoy for months and was now pregnant.

She had rolled her eyes and tried to put the rumors straight, but no one would have it. They'd all been witness to what had happened between her and Malfoy at the beginning of the year, and this was just their proof.

She hated how every time she entered the Great Hall, she heard muffled whisperings about how she was "starting to show" (which she felt very indignant at, and tried to wear the most slimming robes possible). Fourth year boys would walk up and try to imitate Malfoy as best they could, saying stupid things like, "Hermione, won't you cover me up with your cloak?"

It was all very ridiculous, and distracting besides. She just didn't have time to worry over such idiotic matters.

But she was beginning to miss her friends, yes even Ron, after spending a whole week kept to herself. She hadn't seen Harry at all besides a passing glance, and she was beginning to forget what Ginny even looked like. And anyways, it was about time to set Ron right about all of that nonsense.

She trudged down the halls, ignoring the students who felt the need to gawk at her like she was some sort of zoo animal. With all the dignity she had in her, she walked right into the Great Hall and sat down next to Harry at the Gryffindor table.

He smiled at her, but Ron, who she had sat right across from, scowled.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he asked, quite viciously.

"Ron, come one, you can't possibly think all of the rumors are true, can you?" Hermione said calmly as she piled some scrambled eggs on her plate.

"All I know is that on the day I broke up with you, you were seen naked with Malfoy on the lawn, the two of you cuddling under your cloak," he said matter-of-factly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on Ron, don't you think that just maybe, there's a story behind that?"

"Does it matter?" Ron smacked his lips.

"Harry, you don't believe all of that, do you?" she turned to the boy sitting next to her.

He shrugged and looked at her with worried eyes. "I don't know what to think, Hermione."

"Maybe I should explain things to your friends, Granger, since they're too daft to hear it from you," came a familiar drawl from behind her. She felt heat rising into her face immediately, but turned to face him anyways.

"Malfoy, I can handle this myself, thank you very much," she said harshly. She almost thought it was sweet, though, that he had come to her rescue.

Malfoy ignored her.

"You want the whole story?" he asked Harry and Ron, who were both watching him with cocked eye brows. "Here it is," he said as he began to tell them everything.

"I fell into the Black Lake because of a stupid squirrel who stole my scarf. Somehow, your friend here heard the cracking ice and came to my rescue. I would have died if she didn't. And then after she saved me, she was smart enough to know that she had to get us both out of our sopping wet, freezing cold clothes. And since she was too cold and tired to carry me to the hospital wing before doing such, she did it right there on the grass. And then we both passed out from almost dying. And that's when everyone decided to take a look at what was going on, not before when I was dying and she almost died too trying to save me," he said very convincingly. Hermione thanked the universe for giving him such powers of manipulation. She waited for Harry or Ron to say something, but Malfoy spoke again.

"So you see, we weren't _shagging _out there, and for Merlin's sake, Granger is not with child, mine or anyone else's. So why don't you two stop being such prats and realize that your friend is a hero?" he finished before spinning on his heel dramatically and sauntering right out of the Great Hall.

Hermione smiled thankfully and turned to look at Ron with expectant eyes.

"Well, aren't you going to say something?" she asked him and Harry.

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Harry asked.

"Neither of you would listen to me," she said exasperatedly, a sudden wave of anger overwhelming her. "You know what, it doesn't even matter. I'm sick of reasoning with you two. You're so ridiculous."

She slammed her palms down on the table to lift herself up, and then she stomped out of the Great Hall, following in Malfoy's footsteps very purposefully.

Malfoy was strolling down the corridor, subconsciously enjoying the memory of his arms wrapped around Hermione's small waist, when he heard footsteps behind him.

When he turned to glance behind, he was greeted with the subject of his unknowing mind. Her thick hair was swaying and her face was red, and her expression was that of a woman not to be trifled with.

"Granger," he greeted her nonchalantly as he leaned casually up against a column.

"Malfoy," she practically growled. "Why did you do that?"

Draco frowned and then arched one of his eyebrows at her. "I must be confused, because you can't possibly be talking about how I saved you back there – not with that tone of voice anyways."

"Saved me?" Hermione cackled incredulously. "Saved me? Malfoy, since when did you have any interest in coming to my rescue?"

Draco smirked at her unbelievingly. "Sorry Granger, it'll never happen again," he said sarcastically.

"Good, because you have absolutely no place rescuing me," she huffed.

Draco eyed her thoroughly through slotted eyes. She was quite amusing when she got like this. Yes, after this long, Draco found anger to be his favorite emotion in Hermione. He smirked more broadly and bowed his head graciously.

"Like I said, never again," he said suavely. "But you know, I'm a little confused about something here. You see, I never thought you were the kind of girl who engaged in double-standards."

Hermione scoffed at him and took a step forward. Her robe had parted down the middle and he could see her chest rising and falling rapidly underneath her cotton t-shirt. He supposed that she wasn't going to say anything, so he explained his insult.

"It's just that you say I have no place rescuing you – which, by the way, I am not arguing – but you seem to think that you do have a place rescuing me," he said as he pushed himself off the wall and stood tall in front of her, making her tilt her head back to glare at him in the eyes like she'd been doing this whole time. "From a certain death by drowning in a freezing lake, that is."

"I didn't know it was you, you – you prat," she said venomously.

"Come Granger, let's be real," Malfoy said as he took another step towards her. She stepped backwards to even the space between them. "You know you would have done it even if you'd known it was me."

"Well maybe I would have, what does it matter?" she threw her hands up in the air and yelled at him. "I saved you from dying, all you did was save me from an argument!"

"All the more reason I should still owe you," Malfoy raised his eyebrows knowingly. "But it doesn't matter to you what's owed, does it?" he smirked. "All that matters is that you were able to save me."

Hermione's face fell thoughtfully, as if she was trying to read his mind to predict his next words. Her chest was rising and falling even quicker now. Draco felt a wave of heat hit him, and he gulped from the quick production of saliva that had occurred in the last couple seconds. He forced his eyes upward to study her face when he found her eyes locked onto his.

He took the opportunity to get it out of her, because he knew that eye contact was her weakness. She tried to look strong and scary, but he could see right through her.

"It only matters that you could save me because you have feelings for me," he declared, not blinking to release her from his sight.

"I do not, you unrelenting snob!" she stepped forward and hit him on the chest with her fist.

"Ow, Granger, that hurts!" Malfoy yelled, but she went on beating his chest with her little fists. He was lying, though. It didn't really hurt. It kind of felt good, actually.

Or maybe he just liked her touching him.

"I DON'T LIKE YOU MALFOY!" she was screaming. "I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT YOU!"

He grabbed her fists with one hand and held her back with the other. Her eyes were locked on his again, this time questioning and brimming with tears.

He couldn't see her chest rising and falling anymore, but it didn't matter because he could feel it. He could feel her hot breath on his neck, her fast pulse in her little wrists. He could feel the smallness of her frame with it pressed up against his body. He could feel how much he wanted her that second.

He leaned his head down gradually, his eyes closed, his own heart beating like the erratic drum of a tribal dance, and he hoped with everything that he was that she would kiss him back.

His lips met hers, first softly, tentatively. He could feel how soft her lips were, and how warm from her exertion. Her could feel her heart beat intensify, and his along with hers.

He thought he heard explosions in the distance, but he didn't care to check.

He pressed his mouth on hers harder and let out the breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. He brought his hand up to cradle her head and as his fingers twirled themselves around her tendrils of hair, she uttered the most wonderful moan from the back of her throat.

Their lips moved on each others for what seemed like a lifetime, and for Draco it felt so good that it almost hurt. Their breathing collaborated so that they seemed to be breathing as one.

As he licked and bit her swollen lips softly, she returned the motion and snaked her arms out of his grasp and around his torso. Her little fingers clawed at his heavy robes, which seemed exceedingly hot for this day – or maybe just for this kind of activity.

Draco tugged on her hair softly and she moaned again, and this time he couldn't help but moan right back at her. Kissing her felt like heaven. Certainly more like heaven than a person such as himself could ever deserve, he reckoned.

Somewhere along the line, her tongue had entered his mouth and began dancing around it, fitting the erratic beating of his heart. He brought his tongue to meet hers and they danced together in a passionate rhythm.

After what seemed far too soon, he found himself withdrawing from her warmth. She gasped as if she just realized what had been going on for well over five minutes.

Her eyes were locked on his, questioning him again. He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows.

"Never said it wasn't mutual, Granger."


	29. Nighttime Meeting

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Nighttime Meeting

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Nighttime Meeting**

The covers were wrapped around Hermione's legs from the multiple times she'd flipped over in the last hour. It was only one in the morning, but she felt as if this had been the longest night of her life.

The sight of Malfoy's retreat – in his usual casual and upper-class strut – after he'd kissed her the day before was replaying in her mind like a film on repeat, and it was driving her mad.

She was certain that she hadn't dozed off even once in the three hours that she'd been laying in her big, four-post bed. As comfortable as the thing normally was, she couldn't find a position that suited her.

Now, she sighed loudly with much exasperation and sat up forcefully. It was obvious that she was not going to be able to sleep tonight. It occurred to her how terribly she would do on exams tomorrow – today, technically – if she wasn't able to catch a wink the whole night, but at the moment it seemed like a lost cause.

She removed her legs from their cotton bounds and stood next to her bed with her hands in her mass of hair.

_Am I going to do this?_ she asked herself. _Am I going to seek Draco Malfoy in his bedroom and ask him to explain exactly what he was thinking when he kissed me?_

As much as she would have liked to talk herself out of it, as much as she hated herself for needing to know, she could not shake those words from her brain:

"_Never said it wasn't mutual, Granger."_

She sighed again. Yes, she was going to do this.

She walked to the corner of her bed and picked up the night gown that she'd tossed off when the rolling around in her bed had caused her to become rather hot. She examined the thing, with its flannel material and long, modest sleeves. The shapeless dress came to her knees and made her look like a five-year-old, and the fact that there were little candy patterns everywhere made it worse. Her grandmother had given the thing to her for Christmas a couple years back, and she couldn't deny that it was a comfortable night gown. But she did not want to go discussing her further relationship with Malfoy while wearing the thing.

She flung it back to the ground and went to her wardrobe, searching for the proper attire. She pulled out her favorite night dress, a black silky one with thin straps and a relatively short skirt. Her stomach dropped when she realized that this was the one she'd been wearing the night that he flew in to the Astronomy Tower. She tossed it back into the drawer with disdain and pulled out a different one instead. It was a lilac color and had thin straps like the other one, but its skirt reached almost to her ankles and created a very nice, feminine look with all of the lace overlay. She slipped it on over her bare skin and glanced down approvingly before stepping out the door.

Hermione walked across the hallway quickly, her heart racing like she was running from an attacker or a big dog or something. She reached his door long before she was ready to, but sucked in a deep breath and demanded that she pull herself together.

_It's only Malfoy, Merlin's pants_, she told herself. _There's nothing to be afraid of, you sissy_.

She let her knuckles pound softly on the wooden door, three knocks in a row. It was quiet for a moment and her stomach tied itself into knots.

_Bloody awful idea, Hermione_, she berated herself. _Of course he's sleeping at this hour. Who wouldn't be, other than an obsessed idiot like me?_

She let her head fall with exhaustion and her forehead hit the door, a little louder than she'd knocked. She jumped from the sound and lost her footing, and her knees buckled under her as she fell sideways into the potted plant next to his door, sending the thing crashing down the stairs. She put her head in her hands and let out a dry sob. How could anyone be that stupid?

Just then, Malfoy's door opened and he stood above her, looking down with immense amusement on his face, and definitely not appearing to have been sleeping at all. His hair was disheveled and there was a thin, glistening layer of sweat on his face and neck. His robes where blowing softly and Hermione realized that his window was open. His broomstick caught her eye, leaning up against the window sill, and she understood immediately.

"Have you been flying again?" she asked as she sat up from her embarrassing place on the carpet.

"Have you been falling over again?" he retorted back to her, a smirk on his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course it had been a mistake. Why did she think that he might be interested in discussing –

He held his hand out to her, and when she took it tentatively, he pulled her up to her feet.

"Come in here," he said, more invitingly than demandingly.

She followed him, her hand comfortably in his, and they both sat on his bed.

"So, what brings you to my room at this hour?" he said, his eyes boring through her, making her unable to say any of the lies that she was thinking up in order to avoid the discussion that she was now terrified to have.

Her words caught in her throat, and the only thing she was able to say was, "Can't sleep…"

He let out a soft chuckle and smirked more, and she couldn't help but smile herself.

"Exams got you all worried?" he asked, raising his eye brows skeptically.

"Malfoy, did you really mean that?" she asked, not explaining what she meant, but not having to.

"I don't bloody know, Granger," he began, suddenly seeming very frustrated. "I – Yes, I meant it," he said resolutely, and she thought he might have just made up his mind that second.

She let out a breath slowly, letting her shoulders relax when she was unaware that they'd been tense before.

"I'm afraid," she whispered, like it was a secret. She was sure he already knew, though, because of her inability to admit that she had feelings for him as well.

"You Gryffindors," he scoffed. "Always pretending you have more courage than you really do."

Hermione frowned and opened her mouth to protest, but shut it again. He was right, she was not brave like a Gryffindor. She looked at her lap intently to avoid looking into his silver eyes.

"I don't see what there is to be afraid of," he announced arrogantly as he leaned back and stretched his arms above his head. "I'm not asking you for anything, I just want you to admit it, Granger. Admit you feel the same way. Because I know you do, and for you to pretend not to is just ridiculous. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking back. Only, I'm not afraid to look back, because you bloody cares? Who bloody cares about house feuds anymore? We've got about a week left before we're gone from this school forever, and then what's stopping us? Blood? I don't care about Purebloods and Half-Bloods and Muggle-Borns, or even Muggles at all. What does it matter? The Dark Lord is gone, it's over, no one cares anymore. The only ones who care if we're together are your friends, and bloody fantastic friends those are if they can't even accept your decisions or want you to be happy with someone who obviously has feelings for you, and who you obviously have feelings for too – "

She watched him ramble for a few minutes, studying the way his mouth moved and the way his eyes would narrow when he said something that he really meant, or something that was very true to him. She let her eyes memorize the curves of his face, the way his nose narrowed so elegantly, and the way his platinum hair looked paired with his alabaster skin. The blood beating in her ears drown out his words after a while, and she just stared at him as he spoke and stared at the ceiling, apparently studying the patterns in the plaster. She was sure that he had been thinking about what he would say in this speech for a while, because he hardly even paused to breathe.

She could hardly breathe herself, for some reason. As she examined him there, sprawled out on his bed so artistically, his body contouring so pleasingly, even though she couldn't really follow what he was saying anymore, she really believed him. She bought it, the whole deal, and she agreed wholeheartedly.

He didn't notice when she laid on her side, her elbow propping her head up, facing towards him. He didn't seem to realize how close she was to him, even though she was fully aware that his arm was brushing against hers and her knee was touching his thigh. He kept talking, so enthusiastically, so passionately, that he didn't notice when her face was right next to his, and she could feel the heat emitting from his flesh.

"I mean, think about that Muggle man, Rameo or whatever, and all of the troubles he went through to be with that woman Jewelet, and they were from different bloods and loyalties and everything, but they wanted to be together and they weren't too afraid to get married even though they only knew each other for a couple days – and I'm not saying we should get married," he chuckled a little. "Ha, no, not quite ready for that. But if those Muggles from Spain or Portugal or whatever can be together even though no one wants them to, then I think we could be together even though Potter and Weasley think I'm a filthy specimen of a human being, and my parents would probably kill me if they knew how I felt about a 'dirty Mudblood' – and I don't think of you that way, Granger, but my parents do, or they did, seeing as, well they're – anyways – "

"Draco?" Hermione spoke for the first time in close to a half-hour. He glanced at her and nearly shot himself through the roof with shock when he finally noticed where she was, and her position, and then he stared at her silently. She smiled at his expression and moved even closer to him. She could feel how quickly he was breathing now, and she couldn't really stand it much longer. "I think you're right," she told him.

She placed herself over him, holding herself up with her arms, and kissed him. He seemed to explode into a fit of passion, and the excitement that he seemed to be feeling passed from him to her, like an electric current. He brought his head and chest up, closing the gap between them.

Hermione was surprised at herself for what she was doing, but at the moment she didn't care much. The only thing she could think about was the way his lips felt against hers, and the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of his thin but strong arms wrapped around her.

It felt like he was trying to merge their bodies together, because the amount of force he was using to hold onto her was incredible. She relaxed into his grip and the kiss intensified, and before she knew it he had flipped her under him.

The weight of his body on her was comforting, and for the first time in a while, with his passionate kiss and his soft hands moving over her stomach, Hermione felt relaxed.

The world of responsibility, and the fact that she had exams the next day, and that within a week she would be on her own in the Wizarding world, and that she was traitorously snogging her worst enemy faded away as he moved on top of her.

His lips left hers and found the place on her neck that acted as a trigger, and she was henceforth unable to open her eyes or do anything but moan softly and breathe heavily. When he came back up, the passion had doubled and his hands were doing more than moving over her stomach.

She didn't stop him this time, but instead exchanged one pleasure for another. They were lost in their trade of ecstasy, never to return from the world of lovers again.

Neither of them heard the tapping on the window.


	30. Compatibility

Author's note at the top of the page (FOR ONCE

_Author's note at the top of the page (FOR ONCE!!):_

_I am very happy to have written this much, and to have gathered a small group of fans However, with the release of the new book and the piling on of new information, I think it's time to sum up Compatibility and write another fanfic that is more true to the canon. _

_Don't worry, it will still be a Dramione, but I have to give JKR's story credit and follow what she has already written. _

_I already have a plan for the next story – just give me a few days to work everything out and the first installment shall appear. _

_So now, with very much thanks as always to __**Big Joe**__ (for introducing me to Harry Potter, and to the world of Fan Fiction, and to the insane world of Dramione and just Draco's amazingness in general, for being my beta, and for writing awesome stories – that you better finish, Kate!!), and individual thank you's to:_

_**Alonia187 – **__for being my first fan other than Kate! Thanks for my first review from an unknown internet passerby!_

_**Christy86 – **__for sticking with me from the beginning, thanks for the support!_

_**StarKneazle**__ – for writing awesome reviews and a really great story – looking forward to more!_

_**sxCelestexs**__ – thank you for the great feedback!_

_**Denaiir**__ – thanks for the support and the detailed reviews!_

_**moneemalfoy**__ – for consistently being a great reviewer, and for making me laugh _

_**ayanastar**__ – for the great reviews, and for letting me know that people enjoy my work._

_**Nikkipotter**__ – thanks for letting me know when I was being confusing, and thanks for the continuing reviews._

_**pisceandreams – **__thanks so so much for all of the amazing support and reviews! Hey, don't stop that Dramione now! Keep going, I really like your story!_

_**hgelman**__ – you're great, thank you for all of the support!_

_**thebfsgf**__ – thanks for being funny and for letting me know that I am appreciated! I always laugh when I read your reviews. I love that _

_**Arual**__ – I'm glad we think the same way about things thanks for being a fan_

_**missp0tterxo**__ – thanks for the support, you make me laugh _

_**Rose4Ever**__ – thank you so much for everything! You make me feel so good about myself and my story. I really enjoy reading your reviews._

_**Inlovewithdraco – **__I AM TOO. Haha, thanks for the reviews and the support _

_**DracsoHeadGirl – **__thanks! Glad to have you as a fan._

_**fromtheashes248 – **__thanks for all of the nice reviews!_

_**ssssserpents –**__ I'm really glad to have you as a reader, I enjoy your reviews very much._

_**ilovemalfoy1235**__ – I love Malfoy, too Thanks for the support._

_And thanks to everyone else not mentioned, I really do appreciate every single one of you – seriously. _

_Here it is._

_3 permiablecellwalls_

Chapter Thirty: Compatibility

Hermione leaned her head back and felt a bead of sweat drip down her jaw and follow the smooth lines of her neck to settle in the crevice between her collar bones. Draco bent his head down and moved his tongue along the very spot, tasting the salty liquid with pleasure.

She gripped his head with her slim hands, feeling her fingers move through his soft blonde hair, and pulled his face up to meet hers. She stared into his eyes fiercely, even though it was all she could do not to collapse in pleasure and never open her eyes again. His metallic gray eyes stared back at hers, and in that second she saw his thin, soft lips part, and he let out a soft gust of breath. His body shuttered on top of hers.

She had seen this beautiful expression before. His eyes were closed now, but his mouth still hung open as he shook in the last seconds of incredible bliss. Then he lowered his full weight on top of her, declining to move himself off of the warm soft pillow she had become. She smiled and breathed deeply, then let her legs snake themselves around his.

She clung to him in delight, elated at the fact that he was laying in her arms and not stopping to think of the repercussions. She was happy, she was comfortable, he was there.

He settled his head in the valley between her breasts and planted a kiss on the side of one. She could feel him smiling.

Her hands moved through his hair again as she closed her eyes and breathed in again, trying to steady her racing heart. She ran her fingers down to his neck and then let her finger nails trail along his shoulders and arms.

He giggled.

Hermione smiled and lifted her head up to look at him. He did the same, and met her gaze with a smirk on his face.

"Are you - ," she asked with a quizzical look, and repeated the motion with her finger nails. "Ticklish?"

He giggled again, but tried to keep his face straight, making him look even cuter.

"Aww, Malfoy is ticklish," she cooed in a baby voice.

"Stop it Granger," he snapped in mock annoyance. "I'm in the most wonderful place in the world, don't ruin it for me," he said with raised eye brows before replacing his head on her chest.

She couldn't argue with that.

His breathing was softer now, and the feel of it moving across her skin was sending shivers down her spine and giving her goose bumps.

Hermione laid her head down again, shut her eyes, and proceeded promptly to fall asleep right underneath him.

Neither of them heard the second tap on the window.

But you couldn't blame them, really. The owl was a tiny thing, and the tapping could hardly have been heard if one had been listening for it. The bird, however, did not think logically about the matter, and found it very insulting that he was unable to deliver his note. Instead, he dropped it outside the window, letting it fall to the ground with a soft flutter and land in the bushes.

It landed right side up, and the envelope read, in scrawling silver ink:

To the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy

The first thing Draco realized that morning was the fantastic smell of honey, surrounding his every cell and anointing it with the sweet scent.

The second thing he noticed was the time: 8:54.

His heart jumped inside of him and he flew out of bed. Consequently, the slumbering woman beside him was rolled to the ground and landed with a substantial thump.

"Merlin! What the hell was that for?" Hermione yelled as she struggled to get to her feet (the sheets were so completely wrapped around her that she appeared to be a gigantic caterpillar).

"Look at the bloody time!" he yelled back before disappearing behind his bathroom door.

Her heart jumped as well, and as soon as she'd finished unraveling the sheets, she sped off to her own room. Seeing as she only had six minutes to make it down to the Great Hall, she decided against a shower. Instead she used all sorts of cleaning and freshening spells to do the trick in under a minute. Then she pulled up her uniform – a white button-up shirt with a Gryffindor striped tie, a plaid skirt, and her school robes – and threw them on in a hurry.

8:58.

She scanned the room for her shoes. Finally seeing one out from under her bed, she jumped at the thing like it might have run away otherwise. She shoved it on, and then the other, and flew up onto her feet.

8:59.

She ran out the door and down the stairs, through the halls and down the three flights of steps, and finally entered through the vast doors of the Great Hall – only about a minute late.

She gulped and found her seat quietly, hoping to attract as little attention as possible.

Hermione saw Malfoy three rows up and to the right. He was lounging in his chair like he'd been there for a year, and her head fumed with the need to know how he got there so bloody fast. He glanced over at her and smirked discreetly, raising his eye brows just slightly. She smiled back, but forced her gaze at the desk. There was no way she could be distracted now.

All through the test her stomach rumbled from not having eaten breakfast, and when she was finally finished, she practically flew from her seat to turn the exam in.

She felt like she'd done horribly, but she tried not to give her feelings much weight. She always felt this way after tests.

She glanced back at Malfoy. He was still working. She smiled in his direction, even though she knew he wasn't looking at her, and then slipped out of the Great Hall and was able to breathe for the first time in four hours.

She headed up to her room, unaware that Draco was rising from his seat just as she was making her way up the first staircase.

"Hold on just one second, Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall whispered as he set his test face-down on the proctor's table and it vanished promptly.

He looked at her questioningly, and she motioned to the door.

"Draco, Mr. Filch found this in the hedges this morning, right below your window," she said once they were in the hallway, and pulled out a small envelope with silver writing. "I think it is addressed to you."

He accepted the note silently, looking and feeling utterly confused.

To the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy

He read the words and nodded to Professor McGonagall. "Yes, I think so too. Thank you," he said curtly before walking down the hall.

He sped up the stairs and finally reached his room. The door shut behind him and he crumpled to the floor immediately, ripping the letter open.

He read it once, twice, three times. It was short, and did not give nearly enough information.

_Mister Draco Malfoy,_

_As you are now of age and fully eligible to receive the financial subjects of your parents' will, we write to inform you that you have inherited the Malfoy vault and all of its holdings as of 11:42 pm last night, when your father passed away and left your as the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune. _

_We regret your loss, but are looking forward to a long customer/business relationship._

_Sincerely, _

_The staff of Gringotts Wizarding Bank_

Draco frowned in concentration at the letter. He had received the Malfoy fortune? His father was dead as of 11:42 last night? How did that happen?

And why had no one notified him sooner?

His mind raced with questions as he struggled to subdue the overwhelming feeling now enveloping him.

He couldn't place it exactly, but someone who was more attentive to their own feelings would have described it as a feeling of utter loneliness and fear.

He read the letter again, searching ever syllable for answers, but none came. He collapsed on his bed instead, wondering what to do now, and who in the world to go to for answers.

Hermione sat in her room, recounting the test and wondering how she would score. But her thoughts kept drifting.

After the night before, the whole universe seemed to have aligned. Her heart skipped a beat just thinking about him, and she was sure that this choice was the best one she'd ever made.

She thought of Ron and Harry, and how she could possibly hide it from them again without going crazy. She decided immediately not to hide it. She would tell them today, and they would have to accept her decisions, whether or not they thought that Draco was, 'a filthy specimen of a human being,' to use his expression.

She was a grown woman, of age in the Wizarding world and very close to it in the Muggle world as well. It was time to live for what she wanted in life, and she was sure that Draco was it.

She breathed deeply and tried not to be afraid, tried to find the Gryffindor courage that she was supposed to have, and then reached for the doorknob.

_Here it goes_, she thought. _Let's hope they're both in a good mood._

Draco opened his eyes and realized that he'd fallen asleep. As he sat up, he decided to go tell Hermione what had happened.

He made his way to the door, but somehow felt like something was wrong.

As he touched the door handle, he felt his body compress and everything go dark. He was being pulled through a black abyss, and then suddenly he was spit out of the darkness forcefully and found himself with a mouthful of carpet.

Wondering who in the hell had turned his doorknob into a portkey, he pushed himself up and stood. As he collected his bearings, he realized just where he was.

He glanced around the room, just to make sure, but there was no need. He was back home, at the manor, in the very room that he'd found his mother dead in. He gasped as he saw her there, still crumpled on the ground pathetically.

He walked over to her and kneeled next to her, examining her corpse. She looked like she hadn't changed at all in the months that she'd been laying there. Her blonde hair still cascaded down her face, covering up the horrified expression.

Draco's stomach flipped over as he sat there and realized fully that his mother was gone. He didn't know how to feel, because while he'd been angry with her before, he was not so much anymore. He gazed down at her and felt his eyes brimming with moisture before he wretched his eyes away.

Then he saw him. His father, Lucius Malfoy, laying a few feet away. He was stretched out on the floor with his arm reaching towards Narcissa and a bloody stain under his abdomen. After a second Draco located his father's second hand, still clutched around the small emerald-gilded knife embedded in his flesh.

Draco wrinkled his nose. He'd just noticed the smell.

He glanced back at his mother, unsure of what to make of the situation, and saw a glinting diamond in the sunlight. He knelt again, seeing the ring still on her left hand, and took it gingerly off of her thin finger.

As he held it up to examine it, he heard a call from down the hall.

"Draco?" a familiar voice was yelling.

He stuffed the ring in his shirt pocket and yelled back, "Hermione! I'm in here!"

He stood and strode to the door before it burst open and she pounced on him.

"Oh, Draco, I'm so glad I've found you!" she was exclaiming into his neck as her arms clutched around his waist tightly.

He smelled her hair and let the wonderful honey scent calm him.

Then she pulled back.

"What's this?" she asked as her hand flew to his pocket and pressed it, feeling the jut of the ring underneath the cotton.

He pulled it out and opened his mouth to explain, but before he could say anything her eyes had opened wide and her mouth dropped open.

He froze there, unable to move at all and holding his mother's heirloom wedding ring towards Hermione, and heard the words, "_You know what to do_" form clearly in his head.

His mind was sent through another portkey, or so it felt, and within a second he was gasping for breath and jumping out of bed, back in his room at Hogwarts. It seemed to be the middle of the night.

He heard a soft knock on his door and realized that he'd been dreaming the whole thing.

He went to the door, opened it, and saw Hermione smiling shyly.

"Hi," she whispered. "Can I come in?"

His eyes met hers and he sighed, unable to keep himself from smiling as he pulled her into his arms.

When he held her tight, however, his stomach dropped. He felt a small object in the pocket of his shirt.

Pulling away from her, probably too fast to be inconspicuous, his eyes met hers again, this time with her searching him for an answer.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "Just give me a second, okay?"

When she had agreed and disappeared behind the door once again, he pulled the thing out of his pocket and confirmed what he had been guessing. It was his mother's ring.

He remembered the words that had flashed through his mind before he woke up and smiled.

Not right away, but someday, he would give the ring to Hermione and ask her to be his wife. Because as the unknown voice had said to him moments before, he had already known what to do.

He folded it in a washcloth and tucked it into his trunk, then welcomed Hermione back into the room.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked him suspiciously.

"Nothing," he said. "Just thinking about you."

She smiled widely and leaned into him as she brought her mouth to his. He kissed her back passionately, holding her small body in his arms, and the feeling of loneliness washed away immediately.

Because after all, how could he feel alone while holding the one he was meant to be with?


End file.
